Two Madmen With A Box
by hedgehogandotter
Summary: You put a mysterious blue box slap-bang in the middle of town, what do people do? Walk past it. Everyone, everywhere does exactly that. But not Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and John join the Doctor and Rose in an adventure to save the world from combined forces that could cause destruction beyond imagining. Eventual John/Sherlock.
1. Time of Death

**1. Time of death**

'Lestrade promised he'd call. Why hasn't he called yet? He promised he would call!'

Sherlock Holmes opened his eyes when there came no reply. The living room was dark and, as Sherlock looked out the window, he could tell that it was probably around 3 o'clock in the morning. He sighed, realising that John had probably gone off to bed, while he had been sitting in his chair, his eyes closed, hardly aware of everything surrounding him. He sank back into the leather chair and was just about to close his eyes again, when he heard John stumble down the stairs.

Not much later, he barged into the room, his hair sticking up in thirteen different directions, Sherlock counted. He muttered something under his breath as he hobbled towards the kitchen.

'John?' Sherlock asked with a frown on his face, 'What are you doing?'

'Tea,' John mumbled sleepily.

Sherlock heard multiple loud noises come from the kitchen. Plates clattering, cupboards smashing, a spoon dropping to the floor, followed by some angry swearwords. When Sherlock's friend joined him in the living room, a cup of tea in his hand, the detective decided it was time to ask some questions.

'Did I… wake you up?' He asked with something in his voice that sounded remarkably like guilt.

John raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 'No. Why? What did you do?' He asked, suspicious of what Sherlock could've possibly done wrong this time, 'You didn't break anything, did you?'

'_Don't _jump to silly conclusions John. You know I was waiting for Lestrade to phone and –'

'Oh let me guess, you went to your mind palace?' John said, sarcastically rolling his eyes. Sherlock didn't reply and with that practically confirmed that John was right.

John could guess what had happened. Sherlock had completely lost track of time again, while in his mind palace, and had probably decided to ask for John's opinion, then to find out John wasn't there anymore.

'Ah,' John sighed, 'So you've been talking to yourself for a while again, I see.'

'I wasn't talking to myself. I was talking to you,' Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth.

'Yeah, but I wasn't there, now was I? No…' he grinned but, after quickly glancing at Sherlock, decided it might be time to cut it out. He sighed, 'Who cares. That's not what woke me up, anyway.'

Sherlock shifted in his seat and leaned forward, his elbows on his legs, his hands folded in front of his face, his nose pressed against his fingertips. 'Then what _did _wake you up?' he asked, curiously.

John shrugged. 'No idea,' he laughed, 'Probably a dream.'

Sherlock frowned and looked at John with penetrating eyes. 'It wasn't a dream,' he whispered, 'You're lying to me. Why are you lying? What woke you up?'

John sighed and held the bridge of his nose. 'Oh Jesus, it doesn't even matter. You must think I'm mental!'

Sherlock's lips curled into a smile, trying hard not to make a rude comment. John continued his story, 'I thought I was awake, and I heard this noise. This…' he hesitated, 'this whooshing noise.'

Sherlock couldn't help chuckling quietly. 'A 'whooshing' noise?' he replied, clearly amused, 'What on earth do you mean?'

John stared at the wall, avoiding to have to look at Sherlock while he said, 'It was such a weird sound. Nothing like a car, or even a bus. Oh, it doesn't matter!' he shouted when he saw Sherlock smile out of the corner of his eye. 'Like I said it was probably just a dream!'

'Probably?' Sherlock laughed, 'I'm quite certain it was. Otherwise I would've heard it as well, don't you think?'

John didn't need to answer him. They both knew that Sherlock would have. The man noticed everything, after all. John buried his face in his hands and grunted. 'What time is it?'

'Three,' Sherlock replied.

Another grunt followed. 'There's no point in going upstairs again. By the time I fall asleep it'll be five o'clock.'

Sherlock shrugged, 'Then you might as well stay up.'

John nodded and gulped the last bit of his tea down. 'Suppose so,' he said as he put the cup and saucer down on the table in front of the sofa.

Just as John put it down, both men jumped up and shot each other a surprised look. They heard a noise, that vaguely sounded like the engine of a car gone horribly wrong. 'That's it!' John cried out, completely blown away, 'That's the sound I told you about!'

Sherlock didn't hesitate one second and sprinted towards the door. He quickly got his coat in the running process and stormed out the door. Not even thinking of the neighbours. 'Come on, John!' he shouted, as he sprinted through the street.

John shivered as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He hesitated a little longer, before actually running after Sherlock. He was wearing his pyjamas and, though he knew no one was watching him, he felt a tad embarrassed. Next to that it was November, and in the last few days the temperatures had dropped and now, John was absolutely freezing.

'Hold up, Sherlock! Wait!'

But the detective didn't stop. He kept running until he reached the corner of the street. He looked around, hoping to see find the place where the noise had come from, but didn't see anything suspicious. The 'whooshing' noise itself had stopped as well and Sherlock slammed his hand against the brick wall next to him in anger.

John shivered again as came to halt next to Sherlock. 'There's nothing here,' he whispered, utterly confused.

Sherlock didn't reply, but scanned the houses surrounding them. Lights were on in most of them and people peered through the curtains to see what was going on.

'At least we're not going insane. They've heard it too,' he said, pointing at the figures in the windows.

John giggled, 'Or they've heard _us._'

Back in 221B Baker Street, John made himself another cup of tea and handed Sherlock a cup too. He took it, but put it down next to him and John didn't think he'd drink from it at all.

'I need to know what it was,' Sherlock muttered for a fourth time that evening. It was nearly five o'clock and he couldn't let the noise go quite yet. John, on the other hand, had given up and was desperately trying to tell Sherlock that it wasn't a big deal and that it was probably something really silly. Nothing to worry about.

But Sherlock was determined to find out what the mysterious noise had been.

He closed his eyes and they sat in silence for over an hour. Sherlock's was wrecking his brain, while John finally dozed off again.

A little past six, Sherlock opened his eyes again, no further than he had been an hour earlier. He needed more data. He looked around the room to find that John had fallen asleep on the sofa. He was snoring quietly and after hesitating for a while, Sherlock decided to let the man sleep.

He hung back in his chair and closed his eyes again. This time, not to think. He was stuck and knew he wouldn't figure anything new out if he kept deducing now. He drew in a deep breath before he, too, dozed off in a light sleep.

And, just like John Watson had predicted, the cup of tea next to Sherlock's chair remained untouched for the rest of the night.

* * *

The ringing sound of his mobile phone woke Sherlock up only one and a half hour later. He jumped up, immediately wide awake, and picked up. 'Lestrade?'

He didn't think of John, who was still sleeping on the couch, when he shouted, 'Anderson did _what_?!'

John sat up in an instant, eyes wide open. As soon as he found out it was Sherlock's fault he didn't get to sleep any longer, he shot him an angry look. Sherlock simply shrugged and continued his conversation with Lestrade, while pacing through the room.

John had a look at the clock on the wall and frowned. Three o'clock?

Had he been sleeping until three in the afternoon? He got his phone out, just to check, and let out a surprised yelp as the digital clock on the screen said 03:04.

Three o'clock in the morning, then? No… No that couldn't possibly be. He walked towards the window and opened the curtains to find that the sun was shining, and lots of people were rushing through the street. It appeared to be morning.

As soon as Sherlock had hung up the phone, John asked him what time it was.

'Half past seven,' Sherlock said, 'So, Lestrade just called and –'

'Half past seven? How do you know?'

He rolled his eyes, as he began to explain his deduction. 'Look outside, John. People in suits are walking the pavements, cabs are rushing through the street, it's a bit obvious don't you think? They all mean to get to work in time. Also, have a look at the sun. It's easy enough to tell by its angle that –'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah,' John rudely interrupted him for the second time, 'but look at the clock. It says it's three.'

Sherlock held his arms up in a questioning manner. 'Okay, the clock broke down. So?'

'Nothing. But then I checked my phone and…' John handed Sherlock his mobile and sighed in relief as soon as the detective brought his hand to his face and raised an eyebrow. 'Oh…' he muttered.

He threw the phone back at John, who caught it out of mid-air with the least effort, and got his own mobile out. Just like John's it said 03:04.

'Why did all the clocks stop at three o'clock this morning?' he asked, more to himself than to John.

'I woke up at three,' John said quietly.

'What?'

'The noise woke me up at three.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'That can't have had anything to do with it. That would've been a horrible coincidence. I don't believe in coincidences, you know that.'

'Why would it have been a coincidence? It's the only link we've got!'

But to John's surprise, Sherlock shook his head. 'No. I don't think it is. I told you, Lestrade just called. He had quite the interesting case for me.'

John bit his lip, annoyed with the fact that Sherlock hadn't shared the information sooner. 'And what was that?' he said through clenched teeth.

'Two men were found dead this morning, close to the Thames. No one could determine their cause of death, so they want me on the crime scene to have a look, in case there's something they missed.'

'Okay. So where's that link then?' John asked, not understanding what the case had to do with their clocks not ticking.

'Lestrade told me chances are, that the two men were thrown into the Thames, because their watches have stopped ticking. According to him, the water must've ruined the devices. The funny thing is, however, that the bodies didn't seem to be cast into the water at all. They weren't wet, and their skin was in a perfect state…'

Sherlock smirked at the look of disbelief on John's face and then continued, 'Their watches stopped at three in the morning. And like I said, I don't believe in coincidences.'

* * *

A warm-hearted Lestrade was waiting for the two men at the crime scene. Knowing that Sherlock wouldn't work with any of the Yard's officers, he had told sergeant Donovan and the rest of her team to stay clear.

'There they are!' the detective inspector laughed as Sherlock and John walked up to him. 'How're you doing?' He stopped and looked at John, a bit of a concerned look in his eyes, 'You should sleep a little more.'

John smiled weakly and nodded.

Lestrade beckoned them to follow him to the place where the bodies were lying motionlessly on the floor. Sherlock shook his head disapprovingly as he sighed, 'Who was the idiot who even considered it an option for them to have been in the water?'

Lestrade mumbled something and stared at his feet.

'You?' Sherlock asked in disbelief.

'Well, both their watches have stopped, what was I supposed to think?' Lestrade sighed desperately, this time looking Sherlock in the eye.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the DI's ignorance. 'Look,' he pointed, 'Their bodies are close to the Thames, that's true, but they're on the _pavement_. They can't have washed up, since the river never even reaches this spot!'

'Yeah, I know that but –'

'Also,' Sherlock continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, 'the bodies would still be soaked if they had been in the water since three o'clock, it would've ruined their skin at least a little.'

Lestrade broke him off again. 'Yeah, I know all of that!' he bellowed, 'But then how do you explain the watches?'

Sherlock knelt down next to one of the two bodies and reached for the man's wrist. A bit hesitant he removed the silver watch and stared at it, a big frown on his face, before sliding it into one of the pockets in his coat.

'I don't,' he eventually sighed, 'I have no idea.'

John, who had been quiet all the time, now knelt down next to Sherlock and, without anyone telling him to do so, started to examine the body.

Sherlock gave him five minutes before asking, 'How long has he been dead?'

'Approximately five hours,' John said in a hushed voice.

Neither Sherlock nor John said anything else, for they both knew what it meant. The watches had stopped at the time of death. And worst of all, so had the clocks in 221B.

After this had sunk in, Sherlock asked his next question, nearly fearing the answer. 'What's the cause of death?'

John confirmed his thoughts. 'I don't know. It's unlike anything I've ever seen.' While John continued studying the first body, Sherlock moved over to the second.

The man was reasonably young. Sherlock estimated he was in his late twenties. The man, named Mr Robinson, didn't appear to be any regular corpse. His skin tone wasn't as pale as a dead man's usually was, and his cheeks seemed slightly pink. His body was ice cold, though and the look of horror on the man's face was simply terrifying. Sherlock took his pulse which was, obviously, dead. However he shivered when his fingers touched the man's skin. It really was unusually cold.

For a brief second he wondered if the man could have died of the cold, but it hadn't even been freezing last night. He had felt so himself.

Besides, two young, fit men, both dead because the temperatures were low? Highly unlikely.

Lestrade sat down next to him and Sherlock immediately got up, leaving Lestrade to look up to him with an annoyed expression on his face.

'Get Molly to do a post-mortem. I need both bodies x-rayed, scanned and checked on the inside. There's something on the _inside_ that killed them.'

'What?' the detective inspector asked, now clearly confused. 'How can you even know that?'

To his surprise it wasn't Sherlock who replied.

'Well, they're dead, aren't they?' John began his explanation. 'There are no signs of a struggle on their bodies, no blood or bruises but they are most definitely dead. We can't determine the cause of death by merely _looking_ at them, meaning we better have a look on the inside.'

Lestrade seemed perplexed. He even wondered whether John was becoming a bit like Sherlock when it came to deducing. There was so much logic behind it, that it was hardly believable any other man missed out on it.

He sighed. 'Sure. Will do. I'll call you as soon as she finds anything worth mentioning.'

'Brilliant,' Sherlock replied sarcastically, 'Come on, John. Home.'

* * *

It had been ages since Sherlock Holmes had had no idea where to begin his deductions. He had been quiet for some time now and had even told John to either go to his room or go out, whichever he preferred, as long as he would leave him alone. Sherlock hadn't been bothered to find out which option John had chosen.

He scratched the back of his head and simply stared blankly ahead.

Two dead men, a few broken clocks and a mysterious noise in the middle of this night.

It seemed very unlikely, but Sherlock had to entertain the possibility that the three things were linked. It was all he had to go on.

It bothered him, though, that none of the three could be explained rationally. The two men had died of something unknown, something that couldn't be explained easily. At three o'clock their watches had stopped, just like the clock in 221B and the clocks on their mobile phones. How could clock on a phone break down?!

And then there was that strange sound he and John had both heard at three. The time of death. That noise that seemed to come out of nowhere…

It was a list of too many coincidences, Sherlock decided. He sighed as he muttered, though a bit reluctant, 'The noise is the link.'

Who, or what, had made that sound, might've had something to do with the curious deaths. He let out an annoyed grunt. If he didn't know better, he'd say this was the work of sorcery.

* * *

'Yes, thank you so much for your time, Mrs Figg.' John zipped the zipper on his jacket up when he turned around and left the fifth house he'd visited in a row. All people had told him the exact same thing, the clocks in 221B weren't the only ones that had stopped ticking at a little past three. It appeared that all clocks in the street were broken.

He was just about to call his friend, Mike Stamford, to go out later this evening, when his phone lit up. The text from Sherlock said,

_Come home. Need to speak to you._

_SH_

John sighed annoyed and angrily replied.

_No. You wanted me to go, so there. _

He put the phone back in his pocket, not remembering why he had took it out in the first place. Seconds later the phone made another text alert noise.

_Where are you?_

John grinned and didn't reply. A reply would be pointless, for Sherlock would find him anywhere. It turned out, he was right. The door of 221B Baker Street opened seconds later and Sherlock's face peered out. He spotted John immediately and gestured for him to come over.

John raised his hands into the air, pretending not to understand him and waved, a bit sheepishly.

Sherlock waved back, though a bit reluctant and closed the door behind him. With fast, swift movements the tall man strode up to John. When he finally reached him, John laughed, 'Okay. So tell me, what do you need me for?'

'I need your opinion.'

'On what?'

He hesitated, before stammering, 'The case. I can't work it out.'

John smiled. 'And you think I can? Come on.'

He turned the corner of Baker Street and Sherlock followed him, not understanding why they were walking away from their home. 'No, I don't. I don't think you can work it out, but you might say something stupid that helps.'

John tried not to be insulted, because he knew Sherlock didn't mean it that way, but the words still hurt. He decided it would be for the best if he didn't reply.

* * *

They sat down in a small café named the Shakespeare's Head, where they both ordered some tomato soup, even though John guessed that the money spent on Sherlock's would be a waste.

'Lestrade called, just before I texted you,' Sherlock told his friend after sipping his drink. 'He said his clock is still working. And so are the ones at the Yard. We appear to be the only ones whose clocks are stuck at three.'

John shook his head and grinned, proud to be able to prove the world's only consulting detective wrong. 'It's not just us,' he said, mysteriously, 'The rest of the street's got the same problem.'

Sherlock didn't reply and just stared at John for a while.

'Yeah. That's what I've been doing,' the other man said. 'So much for your "maybe-they're-out-to-kill-us-too" theory. I don't think the killer means to murder the entire street, do you?'

'I don't know, John, he _has_ already killed two people,' Sherlock replied, an obvious sarcastic undertone in his voice.

At that point a waitress put two big bowls of soup in front of them. She grinned at them and walked away without saying anything. 'That was a first,' John remarked.

Sherlock frowned, not getting the joke John had just made.

'Okay, so, you said Lestrade called. Had he heard anything from Molly yet?'

'Yes, but she hadn't found anything important yet. She tried to warm their bodies up a bit to make the process of scanning easier, but it took ages before the temperature went up, so she ended up not doing anything at all.'

John nodded, chuckling quietly. Sherlock eyed his soup as if he was thinking about drinking a bit of it. Just as he was about to pick up his spoon and scoop up a bit, they heard the noise again.

John looked up and quickly glanced at Sherlock. Their eyes met for only one second, but both men knew enough. They jumped up simultaneously and sprinted towards the door of the pub. 'We'll be back!' John yelled over his shoulder, then quickly jumped to the left, for he'd nearly missed the door hole.

'It's coming from Baker Street!' Sherlock shouted, stating the obvious.

As soon as they came running around the corner the whooshing had stopped, though. John was about to head back to the pub, obviously disappointed, but there was nothing to be done, when Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled him back. 'Look,' he whispered, pointing in the distance.

Against the brick wall Sherlock had slammed his hand much earlier that day, now stood what seemed like a telephone box. 'When did they place that there?' John asked confused.

But Sherlock didn't reply and quietly walked up to it. 'That's not any telephone box,' he whispered as they got closer, 'That's a blue police public call box from the 1950's.'

'It's a what?' John asked, raising his eyebrow.

'They don't make those any more. What's it doing here?' Sherlock continued as if he hadn't heard his friend.

They now stood right in front of it, and Sherlock stretched out his hand to open it. He read the sign on the door, and did just as it said. He tried to pull the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He then walked around it, tapping it in different spots but nothing happened. While the consulting detective continued studying the blue box's sides, John kept pulling the door. Eventually he gave up and gave it a big shove. To his surprise the door pushed inwards. 'Sherlock?!'

The men didn't know what overcame them when they entered the police public call box. What they saw was, simply said, mind-blowing and almost impossible to describe. They stepped into a big round room. In the middle of the circle stood a big device, spreading a faint greenish glow through the room, unlike any both men had ever seen before. They were speechless.

Sherlock was the first to move. Cautiously he stepped towards the machine. The metal grating beneath his feet rattled quietly as he moved along. He stretched out his hand, in order to touch the machine's surface but quickly pulled it back when a face appeared from the floor below.

Through the grating the face of a man, a little older than the detective, stared at him with thick, raised eyebrows. Sherlock yelped and stumbled back in fright. The man from below seemed to grin as he ran up the stairs to greet his guests. John and Sherlock were already at the door when the tall man appeared in the room.

It took Sherlock less than two seconds to take him in. His chestnut brown hair was sticking up in different directions and bounced slightly as he swiftly made his way through the room, towards the duo. He scratched one of his sideburns, smoothed his hands over his well-fitted, dark brown suit with blue pinstripes, and opened his mouth in order to say something, but Sherlock beat him to it.

'It was you!' he exclaimed, when realisation hit him. The man looked at him in amazement and, if possible, raised his eyebrows even higher.

'What?' was all he could reply.

'I don't know how and I don't know why, but _you_ killed them!'

With an even more scrunched up face, the man shouted a louder, 'What?!'

'At three o'clock this morning, you murdered Robinson and Owens!'

'_What?!_'

* * *

**There it is in its full glory! Our first chapter of our Wholock story... Ah, we're so proud of it. It's wonderful to write for Ten for a change. Furthermore, we should add that there will be sci-fi in this story, and the aliens and plantes we mention are entirely created by us. So they're not canon. The rest all belongs to the BBC and Moffat and all those people, of course.**


	2. In the TARDIS

**2. In the TARDIS**

John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. 'Hang on a minute,' he told him, 'How can you possibly know that? For all you know it could just be… a coincidence?'

Sherlock sighed, and still eyeing the strange man, explained to John, 'There were three things we couldn't explain, remember? Three things that made _no_ sense at all. The three _had_ to be linked, you even said so for yourself! And, even though I hate to admit it, there seemed no way of solving the case because _impossible_ things had happened.'

'Yes…' John muttered, not entirely convinced since he had no idea what Sherlock was playing at.

'Look around, John!' Sherlock bellowed, 'This is _impossible_! And you,' he pointed at the man, whose disbelief was still readable on his face, 'you act as if there's nothing special about it! As if you are _used_ to the impossible.'

'I am,' he said, now with a broad smile on his face.

But the detective simply rolled his eyes. 'What is this?' he said, looking around the room.

'You are in the TARDIS,' the man grinned.

'The what?' the two other men asked simultaneously.

'TARDIS. Time And Relative Dimension In Space,' he explained, 'Now for a proper introduction… I'm the Doctor.'

Sherlock and John briefly looked at each other. 'What kind of doctor?' John asked curiously.

'Doctor _who_?' asked Sherlock at the same time.

'Just, the Doctor,' the Doctor told them, 'And who are you?'

Sherlock stepped forward with outstretched arm, though perhaps a bit hesitant. 'Sherlock Holmes,' he said, 'And this is my… friend. John Watson.'

'No! Nooo! Really? That's _amazing_!' The Doctor gasped in a high-pitched voice, 'Oh you just wait 'til Rose hears this! This is brilliant! You, Mr Holmes, are a _genius_!'

'Yes,' Sherlock agreed, 'And what are you?'

The Doctor seemed to think his answer through, before saying, 'I'm a traveller. I heard about strange things going on in London and came to have a look. My… companion and I, that is.'

Sherlock stepped away from the door, somehow believing the Doctor's every word. 'You didn't kill those men, then?' he muttered in an almost apologetic way.

'No, of course not! But, like you, I'm trying to find out who did,' he said mysteriously.

'Maybe we should work together,' John suggested immediately.

'No!' Sherlock said sternly, before the Doctor could accept the offer.

The Doctor spun a full circle, his arms spread out, eventually facing the detective again. 'Look around, Mr Holmes and deduce a little. Like you say, your case is close to the Impossible. Now say for yourself, who do you think knows best when it comes to that? If you want to solve this case, you're going to need me.'

* * *

John, who had liked the Doctor instantly, sat down next to him without hesitation. Sherlock, however, didn't seem too eager to trust the strange man, who wouldn't even tell them his real name immediately and had decided he preferred standing over sitting on the metal flooring of the TARDIS.

'We're just waiting for some tea. In the meantime, though, tell me everything you have found out so far.'

'Tea?' John laughed, 'How do you mean?'

'Rose went out to get some. She's going to see Jackie, that's her mother, and promised she'd bring back some tea. I hope she brings enough for four…'

Sherlock didn't say anything, even though the Doctor shot him a hopeful glance. The detective didn't seem willing to share any information yet. The Doctor sighed, figuring it wasn't entirely fair to ask him for help without telling him about himself. Besides, if they were going to work on the case together, the detective and his friend would get to know much more than any other human anyway.

'Mr Holmes…' he said, not sure what to call the man, 'If you've got questions, and you probably do, don't hesitate to ask them. And that goes for both of you,' he added, winking at John.

'Alright,' Sherlock said immediately, 'You said 'Time And Relative Dimension In Space?'

The Doctor smiled proudly. 'Oh yes!' he exclaimed, 'The TARDIS is my spaceship. It travels through space and time.'

John's jaw dropped and it took him a while to close his mouth again. 'Y-you can travel in time?' he stammered.

'Oh, yes!'

Sherlock, pretending to be but the least impressed continued his interrogation. 'Where are you from? Are you... alien?'

He didn't believe there could be any other life form in the universe. This man couldn't possibly be from a different planet. He looked so human. But to his surprise, the Doctor's answer was, 'I am. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. I'm the last of my kind.'

Sherlock thought he saw a glimpse of sadness cross the Doctor's face, but it was gone before he could tell for sure. At that point, while Sherlock was still processing the answer, a young blonde girl walked in. Sherlock and John both immediately realised this had to be Rose, since she was carrying a big water boiler and a box of tea bags in her right hand. In her left hand she was frantically waving a newspaper. '2012! It's 2012!' She yelled as she threw the Doctor the Daily Telegraph.

'Really?' he asked surprised, 'Oh. Very well, 2012 it is.'

It was only then that the girl noticed the two other men in the room. 'Doctor,' she began, 'Who are they?' She pointed at them and smiled, a bit uncomfortably.

'Rose,' he said, 'Come and meet Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson.'

Rose's reaction was similar to the Doctor's. 'No? No way! This is Sherlock Holmes? The world's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes?!'

'That's the one,' the Doctor laughed.

'Oh my God!' she squealed as she ran up to them and excitedly shook their hands. 'I'm Rose,' she giggled. Then she turned to the Doctor again and whispered and equally excited, 'I can't believe it. Sherlock Holmes!'

The time traveller stuck out his tongue a bit and simply grinned at her. His eyes were sparkling with fondness and he chuckled quietly. He then explained the situation to her, talking at such a high speed that John could hardly keep up, he was impressed with Rose for she seemed to have no trouble keeping up. She nodded and sat down next to John. 'Hey,' she laughed.

'Hello,' John returned her smile. Not sure what else to say he added, 'I'm a doctor, too. Just like him.'

'Yeah. Yeah I know, though I believe you're a different kind,' she said in her heavy Cockney accent. John couldn't think of anything else to say and, since his last words hadn't come across as very smart, he decided to shut up.

'So, Mr Holmes –'

'Sherlock, please,' the detective said. John smiled happily. Knowing Sherlock so well, he knew that this meant he trusted the Doctor and was ready for whatever else the curious Time Lord had in store for them.

The Doctor smiled brightly. 'Sherlock,' he said, his face scrunching up quirkily, pouting his lips as he said the name, as if he wanted to try it out first. 'Sherlock... Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock... Sherlock,' he decided, his smile broader. 'Yes. Anyway, Sherlock...'

John looked at Sherlock over the Doctor's head (he could because the Doctor was hunched over the panels of his TARDIS, flicking switches and pulling levers) and raised his eyebrows in a silent "Who is this man and what is he doing?". Sherlock shrugged, turning his attention back to the Doctor.

All the while, Rose had been smiling at the scene before her, watching in delight as her beloved Doctor repeated the name of the consulting detective over and over, "tasting" the new sound in his mouth.

'What are you doing?' Sherlock asked, knowing it'd be appreciated by John. 'You said this was a spaceship.'

'It is!' the Doctor said loudly, pulling one final lever with a flair that could match Sherlock's when he was excited. 'And I'm showing you how it works! Allons-y!'

'But –'

Before Sherlock could finish his sentence, the whooshing noise that was now so familiar suddenly appeared and the TARDIS started swaying and shaking; Rose and the Doctor clung on the railing like it was the most normal thing ever; Sherlock and John, who had not expected it, stumbled over and had to grab each other to stay upright. Not that it worked, though; there was a big _crash _and John fell over. Sherlock, who had a tight grip on his arm, fell with him and a second later, the TARDIS was still again and Sherlock lay on top of John, who grunted in pain. Sherlock scrambled up without his usual grace and mumbled a soft apology. John waved it off and turned to the Doctor, who was grinning at them, that delighted sparkle in his eyes.

'What the _hell _did you do?!' John shouted. 'You've probably attracted the attention of the entire street!'

'I don't think so,' the Doctor said mysteriously. 'This is my spaceship, remember?'

'Time And Relative Dimension In Space,' Sherlock recited softly. 'Time and space. Doctor – you're not saying that we have gone back in time?'

'Or forwards,' Rose said with a smile.

'What?' John said, who had a difficult time grasping the situation, though he didn't doubt the Doctor or his companion for one second. 'Doctor, where are we?'

'Don't worry, everything's fine. I can take you back to your own time whenever you want. It's just a little teaser for the time to come.'

Sherlock frowned and walked to the door. John followed him and so did Rose, who had dropped the tea stuff on the metal floor of the TARDIS. The Doctor was last, apparently playing with something silvery, about the size of (perhaps a big) pen. John frowned at it but shrugged it off, deciding to ask later.

'We can't stay long, though,' the Doctor called from behind. 'Just a quick look around, we've still got a murder case to think about!'

'But you can take us back in time,' John said. 'You could just take us back before the murders were committed, we could find out who did it.'

'No, no, no,' the Doctor said, shaking his head. John had to forcefully drag his eyes away from his bouncing, chestnut brown locks. 'No, it's a fixed point in history. We can't change it – bad stuff would happen. It's, ah... It's all... wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff, I'll explain later. This is not the time... But I'll tell you what time it really is! It's the year 1895, Victorian London, time of... well... Victoria. Anyway – take a quick look around and be back at the TARDIS in fifteen minutes.'

John could barely follow the Doctor's words, but he did understand that he had to be back at the TARDIS in fifteen minutes, so he walked away, not attempting to follow Sherlock – not wanting to, him muttering to himself, _this isn't possible, this isn't possible, must be a double exit... _Instead, he walked alone, glancing around himself as he took in the familiarity yet oddity of Victorian London. He didn't find himself alone long, though – soon, Rose joined him, her blonde hair dancing around her.

'Hey,' she said, smiling.

'Hey,' he said back, his voice a bit weak. They walked in silence for a while, but Rose, being the chatty person she was, broke it.

'So, you and... Sherlock,' she said, glancing at the back of the tall detective.

'What about us?' John asked, a frown on his face.

'Are you... you know...' She cocked her head to Sherlock again, who was pacing underneath the light of a streetlamp, illuminating his dark hair and shoulders, shadowing his angular face. John shook his head and looked back at Rose.

'What?' he asked, confused. 'Are we what?'

'Together?' she whispered with a smile.

'What?' John said again, louder this time. 'Are you serious? We're not –'

Rose rolled her eyes. 'Okay, then,' he said, but John knew he hadn't convinced her. He looked back at the figure of his best friend, still underneath the light of the beautiful Victorian lamp, apparently in his mind palace as he was waving his arms and shaking his head. His head snapped up with a growl and he searched around for John.

'John!' he called, striding over to him, his long coat rustling behind him. Rose smirked when John jumped up immediately, meeting him halfway, in the middle of the street. She stayed a few feet behind to observe, and she shook her head at what she saw; Sherlock Holmes obviously had no respect or understanding of personal space and he stepped right up to John, so their bodies almost touched. He looked down at him, though not overpowering or demanding, but with a sincere, interested look; the look of respect. John looked up, and though he was the smaller of the two, he seemed Sherlock's equal and he could handle him. They were perfect for each other.

'John, we have gone back in time,' Sherlock said to him. 'I don't know how this is possible but we have. This means though that everything we thought we knew before is gone.'

John nodded. 'That is true. But now we have the Doctor; he will surely throw light upon the matter. He told us he was investigating too, right? That means that this is not just any other murder on the bank of the Thames. This is… alien.'

Sherlock though about his words for a moment, keeping eye contact. Finally, he nodded and he abruptly turned away from John to face Rose.

'Rose,' Sherlock said, a bit harshly. 'What is the Doctor's name?'

'It's just the Doctor,' Rose said. 'It's always been the Doctor. Really, this is not some trick or prank or anything; this is proof, right? Victorian London? I met Charles Dickens here once. And got kidnapped and almost killed by dead people… But that was a long time ago – The Doctor was a different man back then…'

'How do you mean, "a different man"? Sherlock asked.

'It's a long story. The Doctor was dying. Time Lords have this little trick, he told me. A way of cheating death. Every cell in his body changed. He sort of replaced himself. But he's still the Doctor…'

'Oi, you lot!' came the call from the Doctor, who was hanging just outside his box. 'We better go!' He pointed to the street behind them; a few police officers came running up to them, waving their arms, shouting "Stop! In the name of Her Highness, stop!"

Sherlock, John and Rose looked around and ran up to the TARDIS. The Doctor guided them inside and quickly shut the door before running to the control panel, setting the TARDIS to shake again.

'What the hell was that all about?' Sherlock asked him as he grabbed the metal railing of the TARDIS. 'I thought we had fifteen minutes!'

'Yeah,' the Doctor said vaguely, 'yeah. I told you that, didn't I? Well, you see – Rose and I have this thing with queen Victoria... we're actually not allowed here anymore, it's all very...'

'Timey wimey?' Sherlock said drily.

The Doctor shot him a bright smile, showing his (quite pointy) white teeth. 'Yes,' he said. 'We helped her get rid of a werewolf and then she distrusted us because I'm an alien.'

'Yes, about that, Doctor...' John said, stepping forward on the metal landing; the TARDIS had stopped shaking again. 'I think we need to talk about this. You must understand that this is quite hard for us to grasp. This being a spaceship, travelling through time and space, and it's... bigger on the inside...'

'Don't be obvious, John,' Sherlock muttered. 'Of course it is bigger on the inside. I've checked the entire box from the outside and there is no way it could possibly be a prank. Now the question is, _Doctor_, how can it travel in time and space? Who are you, really? You better tell us now because if I'm going to work with someone, I need to know everything about them. I'm used to mystery on one side, both is too much work.'

Suddenly, the Doctor's face became very serious as his grin was wiped off his face. Rose looked at him worriedly and took his hand. 'You should tell them,' she said softly.

The Doctor nodded. 'Right, then. It's going to be a long story.'

'I've got all the time in the world,' Sherlock said. 'A few murders are not even half as important as a Time Lord appearing in our midst.'

'As I've told you, I come from a planet called Gallifrey, in the constellation of Kasterborous. It's the Time Lord planet, and there used to be more of us...'

'Used to be? You told us before you were the last of your kind,' John said quickly before Sherlock could. The detective looked at his friend with a mix of surprise and approval.

'There was a war,' the Doctor said, and he looked sadder than ever. 'A Time War, between my people and a race called the Daleks. People died. Gallifrey became time-locked, so no one could get in or out; no one could hop into their TARDIS and disappear, no one could do anything about the Daleks. But I could; I destroyed them but by doing so I also destroyed my own people. Skaro – the planet of the Daleks – and Gallifrey burnt. What remained was just ash and rocks. It was the sacrifice I had to make to save the universe – all universes. I'm the last one left. I am the last Time Lord.'

Sherlock didn't want to admit it, but he was shocked; he'd met this impossible man, called the Doctor – just the Doctor – and not only was he an alien, he was the last of his kind. A deep sadness could be seen in the man's brown eyes, his old eyes, and suddenly Sherlock wondered how old he really was.

'How old are you?' he asked, interested.

'Nine hundred and five years, give or take a few.'

'And you've been all alone?' John asked compassionately.

'I've had companions,' the Doctor said, trying to crack a smile. 'But there's never been another Time Lord to cross my path... No one to fly the TARDIS with. No one to talk about home with... Just me,' he finished, eyes still tearless but a heartbroken expression on his handsome face.

'There's me,' Rose said softly, biting her lower lip as she looked at the Doctor.

The Doctor smiled. 'Yeah,' he said and a happy glow returned to his eyes as he looked at her.

'I'm sorry,' John said and he pointedly looked at Sherlock. 'And even though I know this one here doesn't want to say it, I know he feels the same.'

Sherlock's cheeks turned to a bright colour of red. 'John,' he hissed. 'There's no need –'

The Doctor chuckled. 'Thank you,' he said. 'Honestly, it's not been all bad. I've had some great times. And you know, I'd really like another of those adventures. What do you say?'

'I'd love some,' Sherlock said with a grin, and he hopped on the platform, next to the Doctor. 'How do you fly this thing?'

* * *

The Doctor and John were discussing medical things. Sherlock sat off to the side, watching them. He'd wanted to jump in and take over the conversation, but neither of the two doctors would let him. So he sat there, mocking on the side line, when Rose popped up and sat down next to him.

'So they don't know what could have killed the two men?' she asked.

Sherlock shook his head. 'We need to get back the autopsy reports first. I suppose Molly could call any second.'

Rose nodded and silence fell. She studied the way he looked at the short, blond man and decided to take the risk.

'How long?' she asked.

'What do you mean, "how long"? This being a spaceship which can also travel in time, I suppose it is not the wisest question to ask –'

'You and John,' she clarified. 'How long's it been going on?'

Sherlock visibly paled. 'I don't... understand,' he said with great difficulty.

Rose grinned. 'Of course you do,' she said teasingly. 'I see the way you look at him. Not just now, but... always. In the short time you've been here, I've come to know your ways quite well, Sherlock. You don't trust easily, nor does he. You don't quite trust the Doctor, you don't quite trust me. You don't treat the Doctor with respect, like one would any stranger, but you value him, don't you?'

'Isn't that what friends do? He's no stranger to me, Rose,' Sherlock said. _Is it really this obvious? _he thought worriedly.

'You're not just friends. Come on, you can tell me! John wouldn't say anything,' Rose said with a pout.

Sherlock sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair. 'All right. I might see John... as more than a friend.'

'Might...?'

'I do,' Sherlock said irritably. 'But as you said, he won't say anything because he doesn't feel the same. Who would like me, anyway? I'm surprised he's still around me.'

Rose frowned and then smiled. 'You two really are blind, aren't you? Look, Sherlock – I like you. So does the Doctor, even though he shows it in a pretty... odd way. And John likes you too, and I know that _because _he's still around you. And trust me, the way he looks at you is just how you look at him.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'He's straight. He's had... girlfriends.' He snarled the last word.

'And that doesn't mean anything. Look, since I can't convince you at the moment, I'll go and talk to John again and trust me – I will find out. And I will prove you wrong.'

'You want to bet?' Sherlock said with a small smile, raising an eyebrow. Rose's energy was just infectious.

'Trust me, you won't want to bet on this,' she said, smiling brightly, running her tongue along her upper teeth. 'Five quid?'

'You're on,' Sherlock said, shaking her hand. He turned his gaze towards John again, secretly hoping that he'd lose five pounds.

'How about you, then? And your Doctor?' Sherlock said, noticing that Rose had turned her head as well. She blushed and smiled slightly.

'It's, ah... complicated,' she said softly.

'Because he's an alien?' Sherlock asked.

'No – well, yes... Because he's practically immortal and all. I can't live in the TARDIS forever. But I want to – all of time and space, no barriers... We can go anywhere... We have gone everywhere. Had adventures. I don't want that to stop,' she muttered, tears in her eyes.

'It won't for a very long time,' Sherlock said softly, looking at John. 'Believe me, you and the Doctor will be fine.'

Rose cracked a smile. 'So will you. And your doctor.'

'He's not my –'

Rose raised an eyebrow. Sherlock sighed; 'My doctor.'

* * *

'What are you lot talking about?' Rose said loudly, causing John and the Doctor to look up.

'Medicine,' John said simply.

'Death,' the Doctor said seriously.

'We're just trying to figure out how those men were killed,' John said. 'I was asking if he had any alien ideas. Suppose we'll have to wait until Molly calls.'

'I don't think we have to wait any longer,' Sherlock said. His phone was in his hand, buzzing as the screen lit up. Without any further ado, he picked up and put it to his ear.

'Molly,' he said. 'Tell me what you've got.'

The Doctor, John and Rose waited anxiously as Sherlock's frown deepened. He nodded and said, 'Thank you, Molly. We'll be there as soon as possible.' And he hung up without saying goodbye.

'We'll have to go to the morgue in St. Bart's,' Sherlock said to John. 'Doctor, I think it's best if you came, too. Seeing as the cause of death might be alien.'

'Ah, of course!' the Doctor said with a bright smile. 'Interesting. The last time I was in a morgue it was 1869. That wasn't much fun, though – we almost got killed.'

'Tell me about it,' Rose sighed.

John and Sherlock exchanged a look and almost burst into laughter. The last thing that Sherlock saw before he turned to the Doctor again was Rose Tyler's face; _Five quid's mine._

'We need to get to the morgue,' he told the Doctor, pointedly ignoring the smiling blonde girl. 'Can you get us there?'

'Oi, this is a TARDIS!' the Doctor said, insulted. 'Unless you've forgotten what it stands for, it should be pretty obvious. I flew to the end of the universe with this thing –'

'Yes, yes, break it up, girls,' John broke in. 'He meant, _will _you get us there?'

The Doctor just smiled. 'Watch me,' he said. 'Allons-y!'

And he was at the consoles again, flicking switches, pushing buttons, pulling levers.

'Well, don't just stand there! When my company's big I like them to help me control her! She can be quite stubborn,' he said, patting the keyboard of the TARDIS. 'The way she's meant to be flown – Time Lords, all around, their own place. I can't make you into Time Lords, but you don't need to be one in order to fly this old girl!'

Sherlock and John hesitated for one moment before standing around the round console panel, doing what the Doctor instructed them to. This time, they were prepared for the slight shaking of the ship and they braces themselves, standing firmly on their feet. They felt on top of the world, enjoying the way the machine reacted to their actions, the Doctor shouting instructions and compliments, a French exclamation between them.

'Ha!' he yelled, a delighted expression on his youthful-looking face. 'It's been ages since she's flown this magnificently! Oh, yes!'

Gradually, the TARDIS slowed down and with one final turn of a wheel, it stopped. 'London, 2012, St. Bart's Hospital,' the Doctor announced. He waved his arm majestically, waiting for Sherlock and John to walk to the door.

And indeed, when Sherlock flung open the door, the entrance to Bart's was visible, albeit from a short distance; the TARDIS had to park somewhere secure, even though a blue Police Box looked harmless.

'Are you coming, Rose?' the Doctor asked.

Rose smiled and was right behind them. 'I wouldn't miss it.'

'Let's go, then!' the Doctor said, closing the blue door behind them. The four of them walked across the street, Sherlock next to John and rose next to the Doctor, who had put on a long, brown duster, hands deep in its pockets.

John couldn't help but notice how he resembled Sherlock; a tall man in a well-fitting suit, a big, impressing coat to go with it. They were both clever, a bit strange to the ways of "normal" humans, and in the constant presence of a companion who loved him.

John sighed; there it was, he finally admitted him to himself. It was because of that damned talk with Rose earlier on; why did she have to bring it up? He'd known for quite a while, he just didn't want to admit it. He'd always liked girls. Not to mention that he was terrified of rejection – and he knew that he'd be rejected by Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't interested in relationships, and certainly not one with John involved. He'd be repulsed, he'd be affronted. He'd make John leave Baker Street (because frankly, it was Sherlock's, after all).

John kept himself occupied with trying not to think about Sherlock the entire journey to the morgue. He tried to block out the detective's swaying arms, his footsteps, his billowing coat.

Rose turned to the Doctor and whispered, 'Have you noticed?'

The Doctor smiled, raised one eyebrow sarcastically and assessed the situation. 'Yes,' he said.

'What do you think we should do about that?'

The Doctor thought for a moment. 'Let it simmer,' he said with a grin. 'And keep talking to them. We might have a new couple in the TARDIS soon enough.'

Rose giggled and took the Doctor's hand, which he held out for her. They followed the detective and his doctor down the stairs to the icy morgue and the Doctor shivered, but not from the cold.

'I don't like death,' he murmured. 'It makes me think of all the times I was too late.'

Sherlock looked round. 'There was nothing you could do about these,' he said, and for a moment, they shared a sadness in their eyes, and John could see another resemblance between the two men; they regretted the loss of other people. Both fought evil, both tried to prevent death. Walking into the morgue was depressing, and even though Sherlock enjoyed what he did – mostly a little too much – the Doctor's sadness seemed to have kicked some sense into his morals.

The Doctor nodded and changed his expression yet again, this time to fascination. 'What have we here...?' he asked, an awed look on his face as he saw the latest victims – the ones of that morning, Mr Robinson and Mr Owens.

'Their watches stopped at the time that we heard your TARDIS,' Sherlock said. 'At 03:04 AM. What could that mean?'

'I don't know,' the Doctor said. 'Depends.'

'Ours stopped, too,' John said. 'And so did the clocks of the rest of Baker Street.'

The Doctor narrowed his eyes. 'Could be a break in the time stream,' he muttered. 'But that only happens by alien hands. No human could do that. Besides, not even all aliens can. Time Lords are one of the only kinds that are able to play with time.'

'So that proves it, then? That this murder is extraterrestrial?' John asked.

The Doctor didn't answer; instead he walked over to the bodies, which were almost blue with cold.

At this point, a mousy-brown haired girl came in, wearing a white lab coat that seemed too big for her tiny frame.

'Molly,' Sherlock said.

'Oh,' she jumped. 'Didn't see you there. Ahm... Who's this?' she asked shyly, pointing to the Doctor.

'I'm the Doctor,' the Doctor said, turning to her. Molly blushed a bright red. 'I came to help Sherlock and John here. Nice to meet you.'

'Oh, erm... Nice to meet you,' she said, quickly letting go of the Doctor's hand and walking back the way she came, cheeks scarlet.

'It's not Molly's area,' Sherlock explained.

The Doctor shrugged it off and stared at the bodies again, expression once again serious. He got the silver tool out of his jacket and flicked it on – the end lit up a bright blue and it made a magnetic sound.

'What's that?' Sherlock asked, stepping forward to inspect the thing.

'Sonic screwdriver,' the Doctor answered, scanning the bodies with it. 'And we have a problem.'

* * *

**Here's chapter two... (ugh, cheesy Author's Note introductions. Stating the obvious.) We just wanted to thank you all for showing such enthusiasm already, only for one chapter! We hope this matches the expected standards. It certainly keeps our attention away from "Sentiment" sequel. Okay, so please leave us some love and we hope you enjoyed!**


	3. The Doctor in Baker Street

**AN:**

**Just a quick note before you read this, please note that the aliens described in this chapter are entirely of our own invention, so don't think that you've missed a weird episode or something. XD The rest of course all belongs to the BBC and Moffat and Gatiss etc. **

* * *

**3. The Doctor in Baker Street**

'What is it?' Sherlock asked. 'Molly told me they were frozen from the inside out, but... How is that possible? Doctor?'

'They did not die of hypothermia; they froze, they literally froze, from the inside out, like Molly told you.' The Doctor looked serious, picking up readings from his sonic screwdriver.

'But how?' Rose asked. 'How was it done?'

'It's like they injected liquid nitrogen in their bodies,' John mused. 'But that isn't possible. Who – or what – did it, then?'

'It's an extremely aggressive and hateful species,' the Doctor said. 'They are called the Koel. They come from a planet of ice, planet of severe cold temperatures. That being said, it's not like them to suddenly attack random humans.'

'How were they killed?' Sherlock asked, interested. The Doctor studied the bodies a bit longer before answering. 'The Koel have extendable fangs,' he said with a humourless laugh. 'A bit like vampires they are, really. They bite down on a preferable vein in any body – human or alien – and inject a substance that immediately spreads to the major organs, numbing everything. The blood isn't warm and circulated enough and it begins to clot. It's a painful death. Poor chaps.'

Sherlock was fascinated and stepped forward. 'If they'd bitten in the neck, I'd have seen it at the crime scene,' he said. 'I'd have noticed. Then where did they bite?'

'They prefer the inside of the elbows or wrists,' the Doctor supplied. 'Sometimes even at the back of the knee or, if their hatred is deep, directly above the heart.'

Sherlock took out his little magnifying glass, and he saw the Doctor stare at it rather disappointedly.

'What?'

'Oh, just... the magnifying glass,' the Doctor said, pointing at the tiny thing. 'Thought it'd be a little bit bigger.' Rose sniggered.

'Practicality, Doctor,' Sherlock said, waving with the little object. 'These pockets aren't bigger on the inside.'

And with those wise words, he set to work, determining the place where the mysterious substance had entered the bloodstream.

'What is it called? The substance?' John asked when Sherlock found the first bite marks.

'It's called the Ice,' the Doctor said. 'In their language of course, but the waves of the TARDIS convert all languages to one you can understand. It sort of translates.'

'Is this Ice their only way of attack?' John queried next.

'I've only seen them once in over a century,' the Doctor murmured. 'They could temporarily numb their victims with the Ice, coming from other places than their teeth; their very pores. It's very quick and they don't need much else to defend themselves.'

It was quiet for a while and Sherlock found the bite mark on the other body. He muttered a few unintelligible words to himself and joined the Doctor, John and Rose again.

'Bite marks. Alien bite marks, and Ice. This is going to be interesting... Anything to add, Doctor?'

The Doctor looked delighted and smiled, revealing his teeth. 'Oh, yes. Lots. But this is not the place to discuss it... Shall we get back to the TARDIS, or...?'

'Let's go to our flat,' John said, the idea suddenly occurring to him. 'I don't know about you, Sherlock but I need to have a little rest now instead of being in a space that can't be possible according to basic laws of physics.'

Sherlock nodded and shrugged. 'Doctor, can you take us there? I don't think it's safe to leave the TARDIS here and hop off on a cab with the four of us.'

'Of course!' the Doctor said in his ever so jubilant voice. 'It will only take a second, John.'

John grumbled under his breath but by then the Doctor and Sherlock had already turned to the door, a whirlwind of grey and brown coats. Rose went to walk beside him again, her hands in her pockets as a comfortable silence fell between them. As always, John didn't break it; he was a man who appreciated his rest. Rose was a young, twenty year-old girl though, full of energy, especially after travelling with the Doctor. So it didn't take long for her to start talking, knowing that if she didn't do it before they got to the TARDIS, finding time to talk alone with John would be difficult.

'I talked to Sherlock earlier today,' she said.

'And that is any of my concern?' John asked, secretly curious.

'Well, I just figured you might want to know about the things he does,' she said lightly, keeping the air of a nonchalant conversation. 'You seem quite possessive of him.'

'I thought he was possessive of _me_,' John said, bewildered.

'Come on, have you seen the way you look at him?' Rose said, a grin around her lips. 'When he's off doing something without you, you look after him and you seem... concerned.'

'Well, I've got to keep an eye on him,' John said defiantly. 'You don't know half the stuff he gets up to. Once I actually had to tackle him to save him from his own acid exploding in the kitchen. Oh, and not to mention all the times he went off to find criminals unarmed.' He chuckled fondly. 'Oh, I do never get bored of that man.'

Rose raised an eyebrow. 'No?' she said slowly. 'I can imagine...'

John looked at her. 'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked, but they had reached the TARDIS and Rose only smiled enigmatically, following the Doctor in.

'So!' the Doctor said, spinning around. '221B Baker Street it is, then?'

'How do you know where we live?' Sherlock asked, suspicious. 'Have you read John's blog?'

'John's got a blog?' the Doctor said, sheer wonder on his face. 'That is amazing! I just thought – memoirs would get a bit old, anyway. A blog,' he muttered under his breath.

'How _do _you know where we live, then?' John asked.

'Oh, everybody knows where Sherlock Holmes and John Watson live!' the Doctor exclaimed. '221B Baker Street, most famous address in the universe.'

'What – universe? Doctor, is there something you're not telling us?'

The Doctor, who looked like his delightful expression was frozen on his face, as if he'd realised he said a bit too much, smiled quickly and set the TARDIS to work again. 'Baker Street it is,' he said and he deliberately gave his spaceship an extra shake to distract the crime solving duo from his slipup.

John was prepared for it this time, but Sherlock was still looking at the Doctor, suspicion crossing his face. He felt the metal floor of the TARDIS jerk a little beneath his feet and he fell against John, who put an arm around him to steady him.

'You all right?' he asked, trying not to pay attention to his increasing heart rate caused by the lovely dark curls in his neck.

'Fine,' Sherlock muttered in a husky voice, scrambling away from his friend. 'Uhm... Thank you.'

'No problem,' John said breathlessly. He pointedly did not look at Rose, who had her arms crossed in front of her chest and a knowing smirk on her face, shaking her head. 'Shall we go, then?'

And John led the way, Sherlock behind him, their new friends following them. As he opened the lock to their flat, he could feel the warmth of the tall detective behind him; he could practically feel his body radiating heat, he could almost feel his breath on his skin, he could envision him putting his long, graceful arms around him, his dark coat falling around John...

'John?' Sherlock asked, a worried undertone in his voice. 'Is there something wrong?'

'No,' John answered, finally opening the door, trying to hide his beetroot head. He stepped inside and quickly dashed for the stairs, storing this disturbing image of him and his flatmate in the back if his mind. He'd worry about it later; now, with the murders going on, was not the time.

'Nice,' the Doctor said as he stepped into the messy sitting room of 221B. He eyed the yellow smiley on the wall with a snigger and dragged his eyes across the desk, coated with papers and the two laptops of the boys, Sherlock's leather chair and John's red armchair, facing a fireplace with a white mantelpiece, a skull on top of it. 'A skull,' the Doctor said, fascinated as he walked up to it. He held it between his long fingers with a delicacy that Sherlock appreciated.

'Friend of mine,' Sherlock said.

'And when he says "friend"...' John added knowingly, stumbling around the kitchen cupboards for tea cups without a severed finger in them.

'And this is where you live,' Rose stated, looking around the place whilst nodding. 'I like it. So different from my mother's flat, though. But then, she never really was the type for skulls.'

John chuckled and filled the cups with the hot water he'd just boiled, popped them on a tray along with some teabags, sugar and milk and placed it on the kitchen table. He sat down on one of the chairs, soon followed by the others. Sherlock said beside him while Rose and the Doctor sat opposite him, each reaching for a tea cup and a teabag.

They all prepared their tea in silence and when they were contentedly sipping it, Sherlock broke the silence, his low voice ripping through the silence of the flat.

'Doctor,' he began. 'I understand you have got some vital information concerning the Koel. Do please tell us; if we are to encounter them, which is certain, we must know how to recognise their movements and protect ourselves.'

'Right,' the Doctor said, straightening on his chair. 'The Koel is a species of alien that live on the planet of Vrysser. It is extremely cold there; the star it orbits is small and far away from it. The Koel have adapted to the severe cold temperatures, developing a thick skin and a protective layer underneath.'

'What does it look like?' John interjected. 'I'd like to prepare myself for an encounter with them, if you're so certain we're going to have it.'

'It's difficult to describe,' the Doctor said. 'Like quite a lot of aliens, they are human-like; the anatomy of the body definitely looks human – or Time Lord, since we came first. They walk on two legs and have two arms, but their skin is an icy white, coated with tiny little scales the size and shape of snow stars. It actually looks quite beautiful. Then you look at the face. The scales continue, but their eyes are black, and not just the irises and the pupils, the whole eyeball is black. Their lips are white, pulled over their fangs. All of them have black hair, coal black and straight. I've met them a few times, but the last time was so long ago they might already have evolved into something more; the Koel tend to do that, it doesn't take as long as with humans. I doubt it though, but you have to be prepared.'

Sherlock was nodding and John was staring. The longer they listened, the more ridiculous it seemed, but for some reason they believed the Doctor and were actually quite curious to meet the so dangerous aliens.

'But there is something I don't understand,' the Doctor said. 'The Koel are naturally angry creatures, resentful to any other species than that of themselves. And while they will kill without doubt, they'd rather avoid a fight and retreat to their own planet instead. They are quite harmonious creatures, beautiful to watch, but only with their own kind.'

'And the thing you don't understand is, why did they kill two perfectly ordinary and innocent humans for no reason?' Rose asked, playing with her cup.

'Exactly,' the Doctor and Sherlock said at the same time. They looked at each other, surprised, and then the Doctor continued. 'They wouldn't just get on their ship, fly all those light-years to earth to kill two strangers and go back again; they like to keep out of trouble, unless they have to fight – The Last Great Time War was one of those occasions. They sided with the Time Lords, but when their loss was too great, they turned on us and fled, closing themselves off from the universe even more than they had before.'

'So either this was necessary,' Sherlock said. 'Or...'

'Or they were blackmailed by someone. The only way to find out is to visit them,' the Doctor concluded.

John was shocked. 'But –' he spluttered, pouring himself another cup of tea to cope (he was English after all), 'but... I thought that planet was ice cold,' he finished lamely.

'We can dress warm,' the Doctor said. 'I've got two hearts, plenty to keep myself warm, though you can wear a thick coat to protect yourselves from frostbite. Seems like you've got one big enough,' he said, pointing to Sherlock's coat on the peg next to the door. 'No worries, John, the TARDIS has an extended wardrobe for any occasion and known planet.'

'Okay,' John sighed, defeated. 'When will we go?'

Before the Doctor could answer there was a loud grumble from Sherlock as he pushed back his chair, standing up in a flash. 'Not now,' he muttered angrily. He walked towards the door but before he could lock it, it swung open to reveal a tall man – a little taller than Sherlock, Rose noticed – in a fine, three-piece suit, with light, sparkling eyes that reminded Rose and the Doctor of Sherlock's, a hooked nose, a permanent scowl on his face and a plain, black umbrella by his side.

'Mycroft,' Sherlock growled. 'What are you doing here?'

'I came to verify your safety, Sherlock. It has come to my attention that you and John were seen in the presence of a very dangerous man... going under the codename of "the Doctor"...' his voice trailed off as he saw the young-looking man and his companion at the dinner table, waving goofily. Eyes sparkling with rage, Mycroft turned to his younger brother again.

'Sherlock, what in the devil's name is going on?!'

'You tell me,' Sherlock said daringly, tilting up his chin so he could look his older brother in the eye.

'This man is dangerous!' Mycroft almost yelled. 'He is seen in different points of London, of the whole world in fact, with no means of transportation or identification...'

'And why should he be dangerous, then? I've met drug dealers before, Mycroft; I hate to remind you.'

'And in different points of time,' Mycroft finished with clenched teeth. 'There are pictures of this man from one hundred years back and he has not changed at all. There are references to him in books, there are paintings, there are obvious signs that this man...'

'Is a time traveller,' Sherlock finished his sentence, though not exactly as Mycroft had intended to.

'I beg your pardon?' he said softly as he looked his younger brother in the eyes. There was nothing but truth there, and of course a little bit of the usual sarcasm he had towards his brother, but Mycroft knew that he meant what he had said. He didn't believe it quite yet, though.

'Oh, come on, Sherlock! Time travelling, now? Another of your experiments?' he snorted.

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and waved his arm towards his new friend. 'Ask him yourself, _brother_.'

Mycroft turned to the Doctor and passed his eyes over him, pulling up his upper lip in a sneer. 'Mycroft Holmes,' he said as he extended his arm.

'I'm the Doctor,' the Doctor said, taking Mycroft's hand and shaking it firmly. 'Thought you'd be a little bit fatter, though.'

'Excuse me?' Mycroft said, flushing an angry red. John laughed silently and Sherlock chuckled. 'You have heard about me, then?' he asked next, looking at Sherlock with confusion and accusation.

'Oh, yeah,' the Doctor said. 'But not from him. Who wouldn't know Mycroft Holmes?'

Mycroft frowned. 'Everyone. My position in the British government is very discreet. Not anyone would know my name, _Doctor_.'

'Good thing I'm not "anyone", then,' the Doctor avoided the question. 'What Sherlock told you is true; I am a time traveller, and this is my companion, Rose Tyler. Surely you must have seen a blue Police Public Call Box from the 1950's around London on that CCTV footage of yours?'

'Indeed I have,' Mycroft said, refusing to let his eloquence abandon him.

'Well, that is my spaceship.'

'Your –?' Mycroft stuttered, failing miserably. 'I won't have this nonsense!' he suddenly shouted. 'Sherlock, is this some kind of practical joke?'

'Honestly, Mycroft – do you think I'd lower myself to such stupid and childish a thing as a practical joke?'

John watched the two brothers and the Doctor with amusement, the tray with the tea in his hands. He brought it to the counter and washed the cups in the sink, tutting to himself. Sherlock and Mycroft, it was always the same; they always had to bicker, they always had to be right. But, John said to himself, this time Mycroft had a point. If John hadn't walked into the TARDIS first to see the huge place inside of that box, he wouldn't have thought it possible either.

'Mycroft, we could show you but since the two victims I inspected this morning are killed by aliens, we don't have much time. And I'm not bringing you along to that planet; you'd only be a holdup.'

'He's not invited,' the Doctor said with a smile. 'Mr Holmes,' he said to Mycroft. 'There is another way to show you; you don't have to go into my TARDIS for it, I only need to touch your forehead.'

'And what good will that do?' Mycroft asked incredulously.

'I can transfer some of my memories to your mind,' the Doctor said, and Mycroft suddenly noticed how old the brown eyes staring at him were. Without remembering to give in, he nodded and felt the gentle fingertips of the alien touch his scalp, but he felt so much more; there was an energy, gliding over the fingers and into his mind. Mycroft closed his eyes and experienced the memories of the Time Lord. He saw horrible things; he saw strange creatures, he saw robots, he saw destruction and mayhem, but he also saw good things; he saw some of the Doctor's companions, he saw love and happiness, he saw the world rebuilding itself as if nothing had happened. Unwillingly, Mycroft gasped, standing back from the Doctor, who looked at him with one eyebrow arched up in an almost impossible way.

'Yes?' he said in a quiet whisper.

Mycroft was an intelligent man; he knew when the things he was told were the truth and he certainly knew when the things he was shown were the truth. He had no explanation for them whatsoever but he believed them, he believed the Doctor (even though it meant letting Sherlock win a discussion).

'Yes,' he said, back in a steady voice. Sherlock eyed them from a few feet back, obviously frustrated about the fact that the Doctor hadn't shown him any of those memories; Sherlock had to know everything.

Mycroft turned to him and whispered, 'You don't want to know.'

And for the first time since John had met Mycroft, he saw a crack in his cold demeanour. Mycroft looked at his brother with determined honesty and it left John wondering what the Doctor had been through in the nine hundred years he had lived. And Sherlock nodded; it was a tiny nod, which was invisible to the people who didn't know Sherlock well. But John saw it, and Mycroft did too, and even the Doctor might have noticed an understanding between them, but luckily he ignored it and grinned.

'You might be of use to us, Mycroft Holmes,' he said. 'You being the British government and all.'

'I will keep an eye out,' the man promised, swirling his umbrella. 'Is there any way I can contact you whilst on a different planet?'

'Oh, yeah! I meant to do this earlier. Sherlock, John, hand me your phones.'

John and Sherlock complied, Sherlock throwing it carelessly and John handing it to Rose, who was closer to him. The Doctor got two battery-like things out of his pocket, removed the backs of their phones and slid it in, pressing a few buttons and closing it again. He handed the phones back and Sherlock inspected his immediately.

'What've you done?' he asked curiously.

'Thanks to me, you always have a signal. And you can call back in time, and across the universe. Handy little Time Lord thing, this.'

'Seriously?' John asked. He nodded and grinned. 'Now _that's _technology.'

'Like you care about technology, John,' Sherlock sniggered.

John shrugged. 'Just saying it like it is. Problem?'

'None at all. Unless of course you say it wrong.'

'Oh, shut up, you,' John said with a grin, realising somewhere in the back of his mind that he was practically flirting with Sherlock Holmes. If Sherlock was going to play this game then so was he.

'Well, I think my business here in concluded,' Mycroft said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, leaning heavily on his umbrella. 'I better get going... And Sherlock? Do keep me up to date about your... adventures.'

Mycroft walked out the door, the eyes of the four people fixed on his back. They heard the door slam downstairs and when Sherlock walked over to the window he saw the sleek, shining black car drive around the corner.

'Funny bloke,' the Doctor said lightly, as if he hadn't just shown "the funny bloke" his entire life story. 'If any more murders happen, though, he can contact us. At least that's something.'

'Hmpff...' Sherlock huffed. He hated to admit it, but Mycroft was a valuable asset when it came to keeping an eye out.

'So...' the Doctor said. 'Shall we go now? Unless of course you want to make a few final arrangements...'

'Now that you mention it,' Sherlock muttered as he got out his mobile phone. 'I need to call Lestrade –'

'The Detective Inspector?' Rose piped up.

Sherlock shot her a wary look. 'Yes...' he said slowly. 'What about him?'

'Nothing,' Rose said quickly. 'It's just that I saw his name in the papers...'

Sherlock knew that she was lying but let it go, planning to worry about it later. 'I need to call him,' he continued. 'He's in the investigation, probably following non-existent leads. I should tell him that we're on it and he doesn't need to waste his time.

'Oh, by the way,' the Doctor said, 'if you have to talk to him, why don't we just go to Scotland Yard? I want to study the case files; I haven't seen the crime scene, you see.'

'Alright, then,' Sherlock said, a bit nonplussed as he realised he hadn't gone to the Yard yet to obtain the files himself; the Doctor and the sound of his TARDIS had distracted him. 'I'm sorry, John; it seems the TARDIS awaits us again.'

* * *

They materialised in a forlorn alley about a minute of walking from Scotland Yard. The Doctor stuck his head out the blue box first out of habit, looking around to see if they'd been noticed.

Sherlock led the way to Lestrade's office. He walked with a certain arrogance, chin held up high as he turned the collar of his long coat up, John walking beside him determinedly. They were stared at; usually, Sherlock and John attracted enough attention for themselves, but now there was another man behind them, wearing an old-looking brown duster – _another coat_ – and a young girl beside him. They looked a bit like Sherlock Holmes and John Watson from another universe.

'Oh, look,' a sneering voice came from behind them. 'How nice, they're giving us a freak show –!'

Anderson's face went a bright red as his vocal cords refused to produce any sound. Sherlock looked at the Doctor, astounded; he had his finger over his pursed lips, shushing a deep 'Shhh...'

'You've got to teach me how to do that,' Sherlock said.

'You wouldn't be able to,' the Doctor said. 'And besides, it only works once in the lifetime of a living creature with underdeveloped brains.'

Sherlock sniggered. 'Thanks for the new insult, Doctor. "Lowering the IQ of the whole street" was getting old anyway.'

'Pleasure,' the Doctor grinned. 'Now, where is DI Lestrade?'

'Over here,' Sherlock pointed out.

Lestrade jumped up as his door flung open. 'Sherlock!' he bellowed. 'I locked that door for a reason! I'm up to my ears in paperwork and that bloody case... You haven't come to bring me news, have you?' he asked, suddenly sounding hopeful.

'I didn't open the door, the Doctor did,' Sherlock said, waving his hand towards his friend, who smiled and twirled a silvery stick in his hand. 'And no, I haven't got news on the case. I came to fetch the files and to tell you that you can stop trying to solve it. We're on it.'

'And with "we" you mean...?' Lestrade asked, searching for the key of his case-file cabinet. 'That drawer,' he said. 'But I can't find the bloody key...'

'I've got it,' the Doctor said. He pointed his stick at the drawer, lighting the end a bright blue. He opened the drawer before the eyes of a dumbstruck Lestrade.

'Lestrade, this is the Doctor,' Sherlock said. 'He and his companion Rose will try to solve the case with us; we need them. Something fishy is going on and we'll need their expertise.'

'You need someone else's expertise?' Lestrade sniggered sarcastically. 'And why is that?'

'It's not safe to tell you,' the Doctor chipped in. 'Perhaps once, you will know.'

DI Greg Lestrade frowned but returned to his paperwork grudgingly. 'Anything else?' he grumbled.

'Yes,' the Doctor said. 'If any of your men see a blue police box make a noise and disappear, ignore it.'

'O...kay,' Lestrade said, nodding. 'I take it you're not going to explain?'

'You guessed it.'

'Or why you're just called, "the Doctor"?'

Sherlock just smiled.

'Right,' Lestrade said again. 'You're on the case, ignore blue box...'

'And contact us or Mycroft if more bodies are found – or if suspicious things happen.'

* * *

They found themselves back in 221B (after quite the bumpy ride in the TARDIS) not long after that. The TARDIS had materialised on the same corner it had first appeared only hours earlier. The Doctor and Rose seemed very eager to leave, but Sherlock and, mostly John, had insisted they'd go home before leaving Earth behind for 'God knows how long! And Sherlock, what if we die on a different planet and our bodies are never found. And Jesus, _Jesus_, should we even be doing this?'

But, after pacing through the room for a while, John had finally sat down in the chair across Sherlock's and decided he was even looking forward to things to come.

Sherlock shot John an annoyed look that practically said; 'are we sure we're going to travel with _him_.' He nodded towards the Doctor who, apparently, wasn't capable of sitting still. Or keeping his mouth shut, in fact. He was sitting on the couch, next to Rose, and had been drumming his knees for quite a while now. He kept moving his head around, too. Then to the left, then to the right, towards the ceiling and the floor as if he wanted to inspect every inch of the room. While doing so, he kept chatting about things that made no sense to Sherlock at all. 'Remember, Rose, when I showed you the City of New New York? The tall buildings, the smell of apple-grass…'

'Cassandra and people infected with all possible diseases running after us, trying to kill us. Oh yeah, how could I forget!' Rose laughed.

'Yeah, exactly. Exactly! Ah but, the planet of the Koel…' he whispered.

'Yeah?' she asked expectantly.

'Well, it's nothing like that,' he said, tilting his head to the left and crunching up his face in his quirky way again. But then, all of a sudden, his expression changed from cheerful, to a very serious look. He frowned and looked at Rose with penetrating eyes. 'In fact,' he whispered, 'It's unlike anything you've ever seen. And it's going to be dangerous. It's going to be oh-so dangerous…'

Rose's eyes widened and for a brief second she looked afraid, then that big, by now familiar, grin reappeared on her face and she said; 'Great! Looking forward to it.'

She burst out laughing (as did the Doctor) and rested her forehead on his shoulder, chuckling uncontrollably.

John, turning to face Sherlock again, shrugged and smiled. Somehow John couldn't wait to leave, however dangerous their adventures could become. He simply couldn't wait to tell stories just like the Doctor's. However, he knew he wouldn't be allowed to talk about aliens, or the future, to anyone. He had to keep everything he'd see with the Doctor a secret, to practically every other human being he knew. Except for Sherlock, of course.  
John smiled when he thought of the days that would follow after their adventures. How they would be the only ones to know and how they could talk about what they'd seen while travelling with the Doctor… But either way, whatever had worried John only minutes ago, all his doubts had disappeared and he decided, he was ready to leave.

And so was the Doctor. Apparently he had done enough sitting for the day, so he got up and said, 'Well, better get your stuff. Stuff. I like that word. _Stuff_. Anyway, better get your stuff and then we're off. Allons-y!'

He took Rose's hand in his and sprinted towards the door, pulling her along. Just before he vanished down the stairs he called another, 'Go on. Hurry up!'

* * *

Without saying anything to Sherlock, John started rushing through the room. Picking up pieces of paper, throwing them on the ground and picking them up again. He ran upstairs, then to come back downstairs empty-handed. He shook his head and sighed, 'What do we pack?'

It was only then that he realised that Sherlock hadn't moved an inch. He was just sitting there, in his chair, staring at John as if he wasn't planning on going anywhere any time soon. Let alone travelling to a whole different planet. And then John saw it.

It hardly ever happened that Sherlock's emotions were readable on his face and even this time all John got was a teeny tiny glimpse. A glimpse of sadness and worry in his eyes and instantly John knew something was off. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing. Nothing, really. I just –' he sighed and shrugged, then slowly got up from his chair. He stood completely still in the middle of the room, just for a while, and stared at his feet. Then his gaze went up and he looked at John. Whatever emotions had been readable on his face, they'd gone and, a bit dazed, he said, 'John…'

'Hm?'

'Promise me we'll make it out of this alive.'

John smiled when realisation hit him. 'Of course we will! No need to be scared. You'll be just fine, you're brilliant enough, anyway.' But to his amazement the consulting detective shook his head. 'I know I'll be fine. I just want…' he drew in a deep breath. 'I just want _you_ to be safe too.'

John grinned. 'Don't worry. I will be.' He was surprised to find that Sherlock cared so much about him that he seriously went as far as saying it. John had to admit, he really did appreciate it.

Sherlock coughed, interrupting John's thoughts. 'So,' he said, 'What _do_ we pack?'

* * *

**We just had to bring Mycroft in. He's just too much fun to write. Okay, so we're sorry this updating isn't going all too regularly as we're studying for our testweek as we speak, and this is even ahead of our planning but we wanted to keep our readers happy. Anyway, do enjoy and we'd love to hear from you! X**


	4. Vrysser

**4. Vrysser**

Both men eventually found themselves outside with no bags, suitcases or anything of that matter at all, in fact. They had no idea of what to expect on a whole different planet, and besides, they weren't going on holiday!

They would be home soon enough, so they wouldn't need different clothes or anything of that matter. And even if they did, the TARDIS was still bigger on the inside and the Doctor had said there'd be some clothes in there…

* * *

'So then Rose just took the chain and _jumped_! While yelling "I got the bronze!" In mid-air!' the Doctor exclaimed laughing.

'Yeah. Yeah that's great. Can we actually go now?' John said, a little irritated. As much as he liked the stories about the Doctor's adventures, he really thought it was time for their own to begin.

'He's right, Doctor,' Rose nodded in agreement, 'Go on. We're all dying to see Vrysser!'

'Very well. Hold on tight!' And as Sherlock and John clamped onto each other in order to not fall over this time and Rose stumbled backwards, the Doctor tugged one of the levers of the TARDIS as hard as he could. In fact, he put his foot on the console panel and pulled with all his might. 'To the stars and beyond!' he shouted, then to shiver and correct himself. 'No. No that's, that's definitely not right. No. I am _never_ saying that aga– WHAT?!'

There was a loud crashing sound and sparks spat up from the panel. 'Oh nononono, you don't!' The Doctor called out. 'Rose!'

The girl ran up to him as fast as she could, trying to walk in a straight line as much as possible, but the TARDIS didn't allow it and she was smashed against the walls several times.

'Rose, come on, hurry!' The Doctor yelled impatiently, while running around the TARDIS pressing practically every single button and pulling every lever. He got his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and held it against the computer screen on the panel. 'Come on, come on, don't you dare!'

Still holding each other in order to stand up, Sherlock and John stumbled forward. 'Doctor, what's going on?' Sherlock bellowed over the noise the TARDIS made.

He held himself up by leaning on John's shoulder, who wobbled dangerously under his weight, and the detective knew it wouldn't be long before they'd fall again. He let go of John, who immediately dropped to the floor and swore. He clamped onto one of the railings near the door of the Box and repeated his earlier question, which the Doctor had ignored. 'Doctor?!'

He didn't reply. Instead he reached out for Rose and helped her up. He pointed towards a couple of buttons and then ran to the other side of the control panel. As he started turning and twisting, he yelled his instructions to Rose. 'Left button, the green one. Don't touch the red or silver ones, they'll just blow us up.'

Rose pressed the button and there was another loud CRACK and John and Sherlock were thrown to their left. The TARDIS seemed flying completely horizontally now. Sherlock yelped as John's foot his shoulder. 'I'm sorry,' his friend shouted when he landed against next to Sherlock.

'NO! Not that one, the one next to it. The big one!'

'That one's not green,' Rose shouted, slightly panicking. Then she jumped backwards, avoiding a new rain of sparks and smoke flying from the machine. She then hurriedly sprinted forwards again and pressed the button with a large number two on it and closed her eyes, afraid things would get worse. But to everyone's surprise, the TARDIS shifted to its right and they were flying steady again in no time.

The Doctor sighed in relief. 'Brilliant,' he grinned as if nothing had happened. His teeth seemed to light up blue because of the lights of the TARDIS shining upon them and, even though his smile towards Rose was so genuine, he looked a tad creepy with half of his face vaguely blue and the other half hidden in shadows. He turned another wheel on the panel and pulled the biggest lever. The machine made its infamous materialising noise and after a fairly small thud, the passengers knew they had landed.

Sherlock and John, who were still on the floor, leaning against the wall, cautiously got up and the Doctor smacked their backs. 'Fat lot of good you were,' he muttered, 'Anyway! Are you ready?'

Sherlock, a bit insulted, hesitated before nodding. Slowly he asked, 'Is this it, then? I mean, are we… on a different planet?'

'Oh yes!' the Doctor confirmed and walked towards the door. 'It's yours to open. Through here is a whole new planet, a whole new species, a whole new world…'

John, who had been standing behind Sherlock ever since they'd gotten up, eventually took his friend's arm and pulled him forward. Unlike Sherlock, he couldn't wait to open the door and see Vrysser for himself.

'Oh, hurry up you two!' Rose's voice came from the back. Sherlock looked over his shoulder to find her smirking at him. Not comprehending what the girl found so amusing, he mouthed 'what?'

She simply nodded her head in the direction of his lower arm. He followed her gaze and understood she meant John, who was still holding him by the wrist. Sherlock rolled his eyes, pretending he didn't actually care. He turned away from Rose when she held her hands together, creating a heart shaped figure in front of her chest, and winked.

The Doctor, who had watched the whole sequence with a broad smile on his face, finally prodded John's belly. 'Just open it,' he said, losing his patience. No matter how old the Time Lord was and how many planets he had seen, he would never get used to this. Opening the TARDIS door and find yourself somewhere completely new. Over 900 years of Time and Space and he still got the thrill of adventure, every single time.

'Here goes,' John sighed and, with shaking hands, pulled the door open.

The word "cold" would've been underrated. They stepped into the snow and immediately shivered. Sherlock closed the buttons of his coat and turned his coat collar, which had been put down during the crash, up again for good measure.

'It's freezing!' John exclaimed, 'It's bloody f-freezing.' However hard he tried he couldn't prevent his teeth from chattering. 'H-h-how are you not cold?' He stammered, turning to the Doctor and Rose. Rose pointed at her outfit. She was now wearing a short, but thick black jacket, with a small string of fake fur around the hood. She also wore snow boots which matched perfectly with her coat. She appeared to be dressed warm enough, but the Doctor was wearing the same suit he had been wearing the entire time. The only difference was that he was now also wearing a long brown trench coat, which couldn't possibly be keeping him warm. He just stood there, grinning like a mad man, as he stared out over Vrysser, his hands in his pockets, the wind blowing his hair and little snowflakes falling onto his skin. 'This is beautiful,' he cried out, 'Absolutely magnificent!'

John jumped up and down, attempting to keep himself warm. 'No, but seriously Doctor, how can you just stand there without freezing to d-d-death?' he asked again, 'Do you have some sort of, I don't know, alien technology something-something to keep you warm or what?! That's not possible, is it?'

'Well…'

'What?'

The Doctor pointed at himself. 'I told you. Time Lord. Two hearts. The blood circulation in my body is twice as fast as yours. I'm able to keep myself warm.'

While the Doctor and the doctor talked about the temperature, the Doctor's double hearts and whatever else there was to discuss concerning the freezing weather, Rose walked up to Sherlock, who had turned his back on the group surrounding the TARDIS.

'You alright, mate?' she asked him. He nodded slowly, but didn't utter a word.

'Bit of a culture shock, isn't it?' she continued.

He nodded again.

'I know. You get used to it after a while,' she smiled, 'But still…'

All of a sudden, Sherlock spoke up. He was still staring ahead, studying the alien landscape in front of him, as he whispered, 'But look at it Rose, it's so beautiful. There's a whole other world out there and most humans down there don't even know.' He gestured at the deep blue sky, guessing Earth would be somewhere near.

The girl nodded, 'Yeah, I know. The human race… We consider ourselves the biggest in the universe and look at us; we're tiny!'

'You look like _giants_ to me.' They hadn't heard the Doctor walk up to them. He was just there all of a sudden.

'Giants?' Sherlock asked in disbelief.

The Doctor shot him a small smile. 'You humans, you're _amazing_. You survive so many, many things and make your way across the universe. One day, the human race will expand and you will live on planets you haven't even discovered yet…'

Silence fell while Sherlock let the words sink in. The Doctor had seen their future and the detective wondered whether that was a good thing. He doubted it. The Doctor had so much power…

'Where's John?' he suddenly asked when he didn't see his friend anywhere.

'TARDIS. I told him where to find a bigger coat to keep him warm.'

Sherlock shook his head as he wrapped his scarf a little tighter around his neck. 'It's not even that cold,' he muttered.

* * *

John joined them some ten minutes later, claiming he would've been there sooner if he hadn't lost his way in the TARDIS. 'Nice library,' he complimented the Doctor, who shrugged and waved his hand. 'Oh, that old thing.' But a small smirk lingered on his face.

Rose pointed in the distance, 'Doctor, is that a city?'

The Doctor looked in the direction she pointed and squinted. 'Sure looks like one,' he stated, 'Let's have a look shall we?'

He didn't wait for an answer and started to make his way through the snow. The three others followed him. They had a long way to go, but none of them minded, since Vrysser turned out to be quite a beautiful planet.

Sherlock had never seen this much snow and wondered when the flakes would stop falling, but to his surprise they only got bigger and seemed to multiply. They were surrounded by big snowy hills and Sherlock was glad that the Koel had cut out a path through the snow towards the city, making their journey much easier.

'You said the Koel were dangerous,' Sherlock reminded the Doctor.

'They are.'

'But, they've built an entire civilisation!'

The Doctor frowned, 'They have, yes. Are you getting to a point soon, or what? What gave you the impression that dangerous creatures can't have cities and families as much as humans?!'

'Nothing!' Sherlock replied quickly, a little shocked by the Doctor's fierce reaction. 'It's just that I've always considered evil the destroyer of cities and families rather than building them from scratch.'

'Sherlock,' the Doctor said, 'There's one thing you have to understand. Evil _is_ the destroyer of cities and families, but I never said these creatures were _evil_. I said they were dangerous, that's different.'

Sherlock thought his words through for a while and then, stammering, he brought out. 'How's that different?'

He knew, as soon as he had uttered the words, he had made a mistake. The Doctor stopped walking and turned to face Sherlock. He simply looked at him and Sherlock shivered because there was anger in his eyes and, for the first time since they'd met him, the man looked old. Really old.

'It is so different! It's oh-so different! Don't you see? The Koel are dangerous if you make them your enemy, but they're not pure evil, like so many others. Like some _humans_ even!' he spat, 'They just do what they think is best. They only want to survive!'

'I'm sorry,' Sherlock muttered, 'I am. I just –'

'You just didn't think. I know.' And with those last words spoken, the Doctor continued his journey and beckoned the others to follow him again.

Rose and John had been walking behind the other duo all this time, and had heard every single word of the conversation.

'Why did he do that?' John asked Rose, who was walking next to him.

'Do what?' she replied as she stooped and picked up a small pile of snow.

'Give Sherlock such a hard time about something that doesn't matter _that_ much.'

'It matters to him,' she said quietly as she started to roll a snowball in her hands.

'Why?'

Rose lowered her voice even more to make sure the Doctor didn't hear her. 'Imagine travelling across the universe, through Time and Space, for hundreds of years. Imagine being the very last of your species and how alone you'd be. And all around you, you see other creatures die, some of them at your hand.

'The Doctor fights for all that is good and has saved so many lives, but to him, the lives he's lost matter most. He's one of the most feared creatures in all of Time and Space. Make him your enemy and you're doomed.'

She stopped to see if John was still listening. The ball of ice in her hands started to melt and cold water was dripping down her fingertips.

'The Doctor knows the Koel are dangerous, but he _has_ to believe that doesn't make them evil. Even though they've killed their enemies, he _has_ to believe they did it in order to survive. In order to escape the Doctor's faith of being alone and merciless.'

'Merciless?' John whispered.

'He can be so bitter, you wouldn't believe. I think he's questioning himself at times, and I'm not sure he understand how wonderful he actually is. Sometime I think he –'

She didn't get a chance to finish her story, for the Doctor called out a loud, 'Oi, you're not talking about me in your little hushed voices, are you? No gossiping, Rose, I told you.' He stuck out his tongue to show that he was joking and waiting for them to catch up with him and Sherlock. He continued their walk with Rose by his side, while Sherlock and John walked behind them.

John wasn't sure whether he should tell Sherlock about what Rose had told him. Somehow he wanted to share it with him, but on the other hand he wanted to keep it to himself because Sherlock was Sherlock and he'd probably react in the strangest way possible. Not to mention, that the detective might've figured some of it out by himself. In fact, Sherlock might have deduced more about the Doctor than John knew now. Rose's words had only caused for more questions to pop up in his head.

'How much longer do we have to walk, do you think?' John asked his friend, starting to feel his feet.

'We've been walking for about half an hour or so,' Sherlock replied, 'And we've got about a quarter of the route to go, judging by the looks of it.' He pointed in the distance. They were much closer to the city already. In fact, John could tell parts of it apart. The city was built on a small mountain. There were tiny houses on the slope, and when John squinted his eyes, he could even make out a couple of streets and shops. All the houses were covered in a thick layer of snow, but the roads were clean and all four of them could see vague outlines of the Koel roaming the streets.

'What do we do?' John called to the Doctor, 'We can't just walk in, can we?'

The Doctor ignored him and continued his conversation with Rose.

'How does she manage to be around him _all the time_?' Sherlock said, still irritated with the time-traveller.

'Maybe he needs her,' was all John said, not wanting to explain things. But of course, Sherlock wouldn't just leave it.

'What do you mean?'

John shook his head. 'I don't know. I just think he needs her to be a little more human. Some people are just so different from the rest of us. I suppose they need someone around to keep them sane.'

'Shut up.'

John frowned, not understanding Sherlock's odd reply. 'Shut up? What did I say, I… oh.'

John realised how he had come up with his explanation; it had sounded quite familiar. And Sherlock had recognised it as well.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't mean _you_. Though, you can be quite… No, I'm sorry, really. It's not like that I'm just here for you to keep you sane. I know you don't need anyone to keep you sane and human and –'

'I said shut up,' Sherlock said and he pointed towards the city. 'Doctor!' he hissed.

The Doctor turned and instantly turned around, pulling Rose along. They came to halt when they reached Sherlock and John.

'What is it?' Rose asked.

The Doctor held a finger against her lips and made a hushing sound. 'I think they're coming down the mountain,' he whispered in disbelief. 'Look!'

It did seem as if the creatures in the city had all assembled and were on their way to greet their visitors. 'That can't be good,' John said in a hushed voice.

'I don't know. Maybe it is,' the Doctor mused, 'Maybe they are coming to say hello. _Maybe_ they know we're not here to harm them. I say we go and meet them'

'I say we run,' John suggested sarcastically.

'Run where?' Rose snorted, 'We can't go back to the TARDIS, not when we're so close. And there's nothing else to run to, so put a sock in it and do as the Doctor says!' And with that they were off again.

The Doctor swiftly made his way through the snow, rushing towards the city as fast as he could. The closer they got to the city, the colder it became. Big snowflakes fell from the sky and all four trespassers struggled during the last mile. They didn't speak until they reached the foot of the mountain, where the most curious creatures awaited them.

The Koel were much like the Doctor had described them. At first sight they appeared to be humans, very pale, but nevertheless humans. But, just as the Doctor had said, they were covered in snow star shaped scales, as if they were made of ice themselves. They moved quite like humans, but in a more gracious and slow manner. The way one of them reached out for the visitors gave Sherlock the creeps. However, it wasn't the way they moved that scared him the most. It was their eyes.

They were black. It was as if their eyeballs had been replaced by coals and he wondered whether the aliens could see or whether they were blind.

The Koel with the outstretched arm appeared to be the leader of the group, since he did the talking. His pearly-white fangs were visible as he hissed, 'Who are you, strangers? Introduce yourselves!'

The fact that he talked with a lisp didn't go unnoticed. The Doctor giggled quietly, before introducing himself and his companions.

'This is Rose, Sherlock and John,' he said, 'And I'm the Doctor.'

All the Koel hissed simultaneously and shivered. Some of them whispered the Doctor's name, seemingly afraid of it.

The leader of the Koel slowly stepped forward, allowing his visitors a better look at him. It wasn't obvious what gender the creatures were, they all looked alike. The way they moved reminded Rose of a dancer, making them seem more feminine, but their hissing voices implied that they were male…

'I am the Doctor,' the Doctor repeated himself, making sure the Koel all heard and understood. 'You've been on Earth and you've killed humans.' The Koel waited for him to say more than that, apparently, because they kept their mouths shut.

'Why?!' the Doctor bellowed and when there came no reply, 'Tell me! _Why?!_'

'Seize them,' the order was a short one and the leader turned his back on them and waved reluctantly. 'Nonono!' the Doctor yelled, 'I'm… Nono!'

Two of the Koel grabbed his arms and tried to restrain him. 'No, no stop it! Let them go!' he yelled, looking at Rose, 'Let. Them. Go!'

But the aliens couldn't be bothered to listen to him. They guided them up the mountain, while the Doctor kept shouting.

Rose, who was being held by two other Koel, tried kicking them, but did not succeed in breaking free. John and Sherlock, still a bit confused by what had happened, decided to stop struggling after a while, figuring there was no point in even trying.

'Stop it! Where are you taking us? Tell me!'

The Doctor's voice echoed through the silence. They walked the streets with the little houses and shops while being watched by curious Koel, who peered out of their windows. The streets seemed to go on and on forever and all four of them felt tired. Ever since they had arrived on Vrysser, they had been walking and they had hardly noticed the great amount of time that had passed by already.

Eventually they reached the top of the mountain where the Koel-leader awaited them in front of a white-stone palace. His home, the travellers presumed.

They followed him into a great hall filed with Koel, sitting on glass chairs and benches. Their black eyes followed the strangers as they were guided towards a small platform from which the leader looked upon them.

'Kneel,' he ordered, but the Doctor refused and stared directly at the Koel without blinking in the slightest.

'I am Yse, King of the Koel and I order you, Doctor, _kneel!_' The Koel guards used their strength to force the Time Lord on his knees, but the Doctor kept looking at the King, who reluctantly said, 'Kill him.'

'No, no don't!' Rose's voice echoed through the room. She was still trying to knock the Koel restraining her out, but they were too strong and pulled her back. 'Silence,' they hissed in her ear and Rose, too afraid to say anything else, bit her lip and kept quiet.

Sherlock and John stood by and watched, both scared and unsure of what to do.

'Listen,' the Doctor whispered to the surrounding Koel, 'Please just listen to me. Two men were killed on Earth and I know it was your work. My only question is _why _you did it.'

Yse made a sound that could be interpreted as snorting and shook his head. 'You lie. You are the Doctor and you are our _enemy_!'

'No!' the Doctor bellowed again. He felt one of the Koel guards breath against one of his arms, held against the Doctor's back. He knew that he'd be a dead man as soon as he would get bitten. The venom would freeze all fluids in his body, preventing him to able to regenerate. One wrong word or move and he would be dead.

'I am not your enemy,' he said, 'Please, let me explain!'

'Take the others away,' the King ordered, pointing towards the Doctor's three companions.

'No, don't. Don't! Let me explain!'

The King made a terrifying sound and it took some time before his visitors understood that he was laughing a cold, high-pitched laugh. 'Oh, I'll let you explain, Doctor, don't you worry. But I don't think you need your dear, dear friends to help you with that, do you?'

The Doctor looked over his shoulder, his eyes briefly meeting Rose's. He furiously hoped that she would forgive him.

'I do,' he told Yse, 'I need one them to explain the situation to you.'

'Which one?' the King of the Koel asked suspiciously.

'Him,' the Doctor said, turning his head to his right in order to face John, who raised an eyebrow and looked rather helpless.

The King seemed to think about it and, for some strange reason, looked a bit amused but eventually nodded. 'Very well. Take the other two downstairs.'

The guards holding Rose and Sherlock nodded simultaneously and steered them in the direction of the door through which they'd entered.

Rose, still kicking and screaming, yelled, 'Doctor! Where are they taking us?!'

'I'm sorry,' he whispered, 'I'm so sorry.'

Her eyes widened in fear as she was dragged further and further away from him. 'Doctor! _Doctor!_'

Sherlock grunted but didn't want to seem weak, so firmly pressed his lips together.

'Where are they going, Doctor?' John whispered, now definitely panicking, 'Where are they taking them?!' But the Doctor didn't answer and that worried him even more.

'Sherlock!' he cried out without hesitation, 'Sherlock!'

The detective's eyes flashed and met John's. 'John,' he mouthed, looking sad and hurt. John had never seen him look like that before. Sherlock looked as if he thought he'd never see John again…

'SHERLOCK!'

'Doctor!' Rose shrieked on last time, before disappearing through the door.

'No! Sherlock! _Sherlock!_' Even harder than before, John tried to break free from the Koel's grasp, but it was pointless. He kept yelling Sherlock's name and briefly wondered what the point in that was. His friend could, of course, hear him, but what good did the shouting do in the end? He needed to save him, from whatever it was that was going to happen to him.

Just like Rose, his friend disappeared, and the door fell shut behind them.

As if nothing had happened, the King of the Koel descended from his platform and smiled, his fangs flashing in the sunlight that fell in through the windows. 'Now then, Doctor,' he grinned, 'Will you dine with me and… explain?'

* * *

**We're sorry this took so long. With school and everything, we don't get to writing as much as we usually do. But here's a nice chapter because it's been months. We lost track of time, sorry. Enjoy and please review! **


	5. The Doctor and the Doctor

**We have a few announcements to make, but first just read this chapter (Otter hasn't even read it yet) and then please read the Author's Note at the bottom. Enjoy! x**

* * *

**5. The Doctor And The Doctor**

John was surprised to find that the Doctor remained so calm. The Time Lord had been so fiery earlier on and now he didn't seem to care at all.

John furiously hoped that it was all part of his plan. If there was a plan, at least.

The room was changed into a dining room with one long glass table in the middle. The Koel who had been watching the visitors earlier, all took their seats. The Koel King looked at the Doctor, who was still on his knees and made the awful laughing sound again.

'Let them go,' he ordered the guards. As soon as the King had said so, both the Doctor and John felt the grip of the Koel on their shoulders and arms loosen.

'Get up,' Yse told the Doctor, who obeyed, looking beaten and tired.

As soon as he was back on his feet he looked at John and mouthed, 'Don't run.'

John looked at the door on his left and wondered whether he could make it without any of the Koel seizing him. The Doctor followed his gaze, seemed to read his thoughts and shook his head. 'Don't even think about it,' he mimed, 'Don't you dare.'

He raised a finger in warning and even though John couldn't resist a small frown, he listened to the Doctor.

Yse didn't get a chance to tell them to sit down, for the Doctor had already grabbed a chair for himself. With his freedom he seemed to regain hope and confidence. His grin even returned and in quite the cheerful manner, he said, 'Bring on the food!'

'Bring on the explanation,' the King lisped.

'I don't talk well on an empty stomach. What's for dinner?'

The answer entered the hall seconds later. Two small Koel came in, carrying an enormous tray filled with dishes and beverages John had never seen before.

All the Koel started muttering excitedly, pointing at what they were being served tonight. John took the opportunity to ask the Doctor some questions.

'Why me?' he wanted to know. 'It could've been Sherlock and his deduction skills or Rose and her knowledge of aliens. Why me? How do I fit into your plan?'

'What makes you think I've even got a plan?' he replied, smiling mischievously.

'You better be kidding,' John whispered and then repeated, '_Why me?_'

'I like you best.'

'Stop it,' John hissed, 'Tell me.'

But, even if the Doctor had wanted to, he wouldn't have gotten the chance to reply, because the King shut all the Koel up at once by bellowing, 'Everyone! We've got some guests this evening. Be nice to them. And now, without further ado… dig in.'

Yse spoke in such a mocking way, that John partly expected all the Koel to literally "dig in" and eat their "guests". Luckily, the King did actually mean the food. He sat down at the head of the table, close to John and the Doctor, who were sitting opposite each other.

While the two small servant Koel poured drinks and smacked the weirdest food on the aliens' plates, the King asked for the Doctor's explanation again.

'Very well,' the Doctor began while chewing on a small piece of purple meat, 'I've met some of you before and know what a loyal and talented species you are.'

'How do you mean?' Yse asked suspiciously. Clearly he hadn't expected the Doctor to compliment his people.

'Well, look at how your people look up to you, as their king. They'd do anything for you. Not to mention the city you've live in. This magnificent city and how you've built this entire civilisation from scratch. That's _amazing_!'

The Koel had no eyebrows so it didn't exactly look like a frown, but he squinted his eyes and wrinkles appeared on his forehead so John guessed that he probably was… The Doctor's words turned out to be really surprising to him.

'Honestly,' the Doctor said, 'I'm just here to help. Someone put you up to killing these human beings, isn't that right? I know the Koel would never do that if someone else hadn't asked them to… I only want to know _who_ told you to murder them. That is all.'

The creature looked at him with penetrating eyes.

'I should not tell you,' he hissed, 'You are his enemy and with that you are ours, too.'

At that point the Doctor lost his temper and, not by accident, knocked the beverage in front of him over. The lumpy, green fluid spat across the table and landed on plates of other Koel. 'I am the enemy of many. That doesn't narrow it down!'

'Good,' the King grinned, his fangs showing as a quick reminder of how lethal they could be, even for the Doctor. 'Like you said, the Koel are very loyal. We've made our choice and I tell you, Doctor, we're not fighting on your side.'

'Side? There's sides now?' the Doctor asked, genuinely confused, 'And fighting, too? Oh, come on! Don't make a big deal out of this. What are you talking about?'

Yse started laughing again and this time, he wasn't the only one. The entire dining hall was roaring with laughter. It was a terrifying sound, causing John to shiver terribly. In between his chuckles, the King lisped, 'War is coming, Doctor. You're going to die.'

John, who still had no idea of what was going on and desperately wanted to know what his part in all of this was, looked at the Doctor, who seemed but in the least impressed by the Koel's warning words. Instead of asking more about it, he simply got up, coughed and announced, 'I suppose we better be off then.'

Two Koel immediately sprinted towards him as he took one step towards the door. 'Oh, now, don't do this again,' the Doctor nagged, 'Go on, let us go.'

'Like I said, you are our enemy,' Yse whispered. For a brief moment John's eyes widened in surprise, because the King licked his lips with a purple, forked tongue. The snake-like action was meant as a warning and John immediately understood that if they were to escape now, the King would personally bite them. John couldn't help muttering a soft, 'God, no.'

The Doctor on the other hand, remained quiet and calmly eyed the King, his hands in his pockets as if he couldn't care less.

'You don't want me as your enemy,' he warned the aliens, 'I'm clever enough to burn your planet and destroy your entire race. Do you understand?'

The King slowly got up from his glass chair and practically danced towards the Doctor. 'We have made our choice,' he said.

'So you didn't choose my side then. Mind me asking, who is the other side?' the Doctor wanted to know.

'The stronger side,' the King laughed and turned to face John for the first time since they had arrived. 'The Doctor said he needs you with him to "explain the situation". Tell me, John, what could he possibly need a simple-minded human for?'

John didn't want to admit that he didn't know either, so changed the subject. 'Where did you take Sherlock?' he asked, 'Where did you take my friend?'

'Speaking of loyal…' the King muttered, still smiling. 'He's in the dungeons, below the palace. Oh, Doctor, don't even try.' He shook his head when he noticed that the Doctor shot a look towards the stone door. 'There's no way you can escape the hall,' the King cackled, 'And even if you could, I'd like to see you try and get into the dungeons. It's impossible.'

Now, however, it was the Doctor's turn to laugh. 'I told you, I'm clever. And there are two things, you should never ever do to me. Number one, don't even name me your enemy. And number two, don't ever take Rose away from me. Understood?'

John's face lit up as he saw the Doctor fumble in his pockets and he nearly cheered out loud when the Time Lord pulled out his sonic screwdriver.

'That's it?' the King laughed, 'A human being and an old sonic probe?'

He nodded. 'And that's where you go wrong, because John is no ordinary human. He's fast, brave and he would do anything for his friends. And this,' he looked at the device in his hand, 'is a _screwdriver_.'

From that moment on, everything happened so fast John had a hard time keeping up. The screwdriver lit up a bright TARDIS blue and just in time, the Doctor gestured for John to get to the door. 'Run!' he called. At that point there were multiple loud bangs and all the glass furniture in the room fell apart. 'High frequency sound waves!' the Doctor explained as he made a run for the door, 'They shatter glass!'

He pushed several confused Koel out of the way. There were shreds of glass everywhere and the aliens did everything they could to avoid the pieces. The King ordered them to follow the Doctor and John, but as soon as they began their pursuit they cut their bare feet open. Loud screams of pain and anger echoed through the hall when the Doctor and his companion finally reached the stone door. 'It won't take them long to recover! They'll be right behind us,' John breathed as it fell shut behind them.

'Better hurry then,' the Doctor grinned, 'Time to save our friends.'

* * *

'I thought you said they might negotiate with us,' John said accusingly when they were in the next hallway, still running, still looking behind them in fear of being followed.

'I said they _might_,' the Doctor corrected him with a pointed finger, rushing down an icy set of stairs.

'You willingly took the risk to get captured so you could talk to them? Rose and Sherlock –'

'John, I can't predict everything! Usually, the Koel are peaceful creatures, distant but polite. They wouldn't normally do this. Something's changed them.'

'What?' John asked, his military training kicking in as he looked around a corner of the cold, icy hallways, taking in his surroundings with quick glances. The tiles looked frozen, cracked with blue lines. The walls were lined with electronics and technology, knowledge far beyond John. The hallways and rooms seemed to go on forever, branching off left and right, ending in research labs, dungeons and prison cells or just empty storage rooms.

'I don't know,' the Doctor huffed, finally settling into an easier pace. 'I think we've lost them. For now, at least.'

'Where have they taken Sherlock?' John hissed, unable to keep the detective out of his mind. 'Oh, God, I promised him we'd be safe. I promised to get us both back to Baker Street alive. What if he dies and I never told him I –?'

'John,' the Doctor said urgently, grabbing him by the shoulders. 'We need to find them and we might not be successful. But we have to believe! If I believe in anything, it is Rose. I believe in her. And you, John, you have to believe in Sherlock. He's clever, he knows how to protect himself.'

'I... I believe in him,' John said determinedly, reaching behind his back to grab the handle of his gun tucked away in the waistband of his trousers. 'Where to, Doctor?' he asked, a fiery passion in his dark blue eyes as he fastened his grip on the Browning.

'To – what is that?' the Doctor asked with a frown as he eyed the gun.

'My gun,' John answered, looking at his loyal weapon in confusion. 'What if some of those creatures ambush us? Excuse me, but you've only got nothing more than a _screwdriver_, and I don't want to be frozen from the inside out by some maniac ice-vampire!'

'It's a _sonic_ screwdriver!' the Doctor said indignantly. He looked at the gun warily, doubting the use of its presence, but John was handling it, not him. With a sigh, he turned away, muttering under his breath. 'Fine. One your head be it. But I never would,' he added in a whisper.

John heard and could not stop a guilty feeling clench around his heart. 'I already have, Doctor,' he said softly, moving again, following the brilliant alien blindly.

The Doctor just frowned at him, concern readable in his eyes. His eyebrows quirked in a funny fashion, and as he strode through the storage room they were currently in, jabbing his screwdriver to different places, he said, 'Tell me.'

'I've served military time in Afghanistan,' John said, pride and pain in his voice. 'I was a doctor,' he added when the Doctor winced. 'I helped to save people. But occasionally I did not have a choice. Sherlock deduced all that about me in a heartbeat.' He chuckled sadly and looked at his left hand; the stress he was in now had made it perfectly steady; his reverse PTSD, as Mycroft had put it, exhilarating his body and mind for action. 'I killed a man for Sherlock. But only when he was in immediate danger,' he said hastily when once again the Doctor flinched. 'The world would be a poorer place without him,' he whispered and he tried to block out the tears that stung in the corners of his eyes as he thought about Sherlock, locked up somewhere, probably deducing the life stories of the Koel. John smiled again; Sherlock was predictable at times.

'You're extremely loyal,' the Doctor noticed, walking down a second hall, inspecting the electronics lining it.

'I've been told, yes,' John grumbled, remembering his first meeting with Mycroft. 'I'd do anything for Sherlock. I killed a man for him. I'd do it again; I'd take my own life to save his. He won't let me, but I would. I...' John swallowed, not sure why he was saying this to a man who was little more than a stranger. 'I love him.'

'And he loves you,' the Doctor said simply, connecting a few wires around a black screen. 'Ha!' he muttered when they contacted with a spark.

'I'm sorry, what?' John asked, his gun still pointed at his surroundings, ready to defend himself if they were attacked suddenly.

'It's obvious,' the Doctor said. 'Well... obvious to me – well... Obvious to anyone who isn't you. I believe Rose even had a bet with Sherlock on if you two'd get together.'

'Sherlock –?'

'Yes,' the Doctor said curtly. 'Accept it and let me figure out how this thing works. You could be helpful, you know. I didn't just pick you because you're less of a pain in the arse than he is.'

'If it comes down to alien technology, I am not the person to consult,' John said defensively, willing his mind to abandon the suggestive thoughts about his flatmate and focus on the task at hand. He felt quite flattered that the Doctor wanted him to help so he would do what he could. 'What is it?' he asked, knowing he'd have to start somewhere.

'An index,' the Doctor said. He smiled brightly when the screen in front of him lit up, showing a scale model of the palace and its dungeons beneath. 'And a map.'

'And how is this going to help us find Sherlock and Rose? They can be anywhere,' John said, using his hand to indicate the entirety of the creeping corridors.

'Not if you know where to look,' the Doctor said, tapping on the screen and pressing buttons. A large table in the round room to their right – a dead end – seemed to come to life, its surface glowing as a giant hologram appeared above it. It was the same scale model, only bigger, 3D and with information access points.

'We're here,' the Doctor said, pointing to a red dot somewhere along the curling spiral of corridors, leading all the way down to one big area in the lowest point underground. 'Sherlock and Rose should be in one of those prison cells,' he muttered, distractedly indicating the green blocks of cells along some of the corridors. 'John, would you mind flicking that switch over there?'

John did as he was told, flicking the stubborn switch with a grunt. The hologram spun around and now showed moving dots, representing the living beings inside the palace. A set of them were fast approaching them.

'Okay, John. Now we have to work together in order for it to do what we want it to,' the Doctor said, instructing him very carefully. 'It's essential you do what I say.'

John nodded, feeling a bit weird following orders rather than giving them.

The Doctor typed something on a keyboard in front of the computer, leaving John to stand around the table. 'Quickly, John, the yellow button,' he said. John obliged, pressing it; the hologram zoomed in, scanning each of the life forms.

'No, no, no, it has to be faster,' the Doctor murmured through clenched teeth. 'Come on...' He typed some more, entering codes and manoeuvring his way through passwords and databases. 'Handle on the right,' he instructed and once again, John did as he was instructed to. Readings were shown on both the screen on the table and the computer, analysing every Koel in close vicinity.

'Anything yet?' John asked, starting to panic a slight bit. He wasn't worried about panicking, though; he worked better under pressure.

'I need more data,' the Doctor groaned.

'You sound like Sherlock,' John chuckled.

'And you giggle like Rose. Really, we're perfect for each other, aren't we?' the Doctor said sarcastically, focussing on the screen, putting on a pair of black-rimmed glasses. John frowned but decided not to ask; the Doctor had clearly just entered a frantic stage and he didn't need unnecessary questions.

'HA!' the Doctor suddenly cried. 'AHA!'

John nearly jumped out of his pants, but managed a smile when the Doctor pushed the chair back and covered the table in the blue light of his screwdriver, checking its readings and grinning to himself.

'Doctor, tell me where they are!' John said impatiently. 'It's Sherlock and Rose we're talking about and those things are almost here –'

'_There_!' the Doctor said, zooming in on the hologram to one of the many corridors, showing two unmoving red dots in a green square, more red dots outside of it, apparently securing the place.

'Let's go, then!' John said, eyeing the dots closing in on them. 'No time to waste!'

'Certainly not,' the Doctor said, and John was unwillingly reminded of Sherlock as his coat billowed around his legs. He followed him, jogging at a reasonable speed as the corridors flew past him. Apparently, the Doctor had a perfect memory as he did not need to think twice about the route they had to take to get to the cell where their friends were held captive.

They ran as fast as they could, and John was glad his limp didn't let him down this time; Sherlock was in danger, and he needed to get to him. The detective was the most pressing thing on his mind right now, he literally could not think of anything else. It was tiring for John, mentally and emotionally, since he'd gone from denial earlier that day to admitting love for his (male) flatmate to a – well, not random, but it certainly was a stranger still.

John knew Sherlock could care for himself, and that another reason why the Doctor had chosen John was so that Sherlock could make sure Rose was okay and they could possibly find a way out if John and the Doctor didn't make it there in time, but John's fear of losing Sherlock made him forget his rational thinking and sprint like he did now, outrunning the tall Doctor with his long legs.

No matter what the Doctor said about killing and guns, he still had it ready beside him, clutched in his hand, the familiar grip comforting him. He had no hesitation in shooting one of the vicious aliens trailing them, regardless of what the Doctor thought of it. He'd shoot to kill for Sherlock, and everything he had said was true; he'd even put a bullet through his own brain, because the world needed that brilliant mind. Such a talent should not be wasted, and John refused to be the person to live on while he had the choice between them.

And now he knew that Sherlock had similar sentiments toward him – judging by the Doctor's statement, but he didn't seem like the person to be lying– it just made him run faster. He didn't even notice the burn in his throat as his lungs desperately tried to suck in more oxygen; he'd give it up for Sherlock if he could, anyway.

He didn't notice the sting in his legs as he kept asking more of his muscles, worn by the years but strengthened by his years in the army. He didn't notice the pang in his side, all he could think about was Sherlock, Sherlock's face, Sherlock in the flat, hesitantly telling him he didn't want John to die, basically telling him he was scared to lose John.

John grunted and sped up, almost leaving the Doctor behind with six feet, but he didn't care; he just wanted to see Sherlock again, know he was alright, and kiss him – God, he wanted to kiss that man – and tell him he'd never leave him again.

Before he could fly around the next corner, the Doctor caught him at his sleeve. 'John! There's guards in front of that door. We have to time it carefully. They pass every ten seconds or so, so we really don't have much time to open it.'

'Your screwdriver works quickly, though, doesn't it?' John panted, starting to feel the exhaustion of the strain he'd pushed his – admittedly – aging body through.

'It does,' the Doctor said. 'Make sure it isn't wood, though. Screwdriver doesn't do wood. But guessing from the technology around this place, probably not...'

They waited anxiously for the guards to pass by again. They looked intense, John supposed; light set of armour, determined stare out their black eyes. They looked dangerous, but now John could see what the Doctor meant; they didn't look themselves, they looked... possessed.

'Three... two... one... Now,' the Doctor hissed and they sprinted forward as silently as they could. The Doctor tried to muffle the buzzing sound of the sonic as he opened the lock and John slipped inside, immediately looking for Sherlock. The man was huddled in a corner, his fingers pressed upwards in his thinking pose, and Rose was pacing, looking up as the door opened, her frightened look turning brilliant in a heartbeat.

'Doctor!' she called, hugging her friend. 'John! You found us!'

Sherlock looked up at the word "John", his expression changing when he saw his friend walk up to him. His eyes widened and he smiled, though it was so small that only John could recognise it for what it was.

'John,' he said simply.

'Found you,' John breathed, relieved to find his friend still in one piece.

Sherlock took a step closer and John felt his heart beat wildly in his chest – was his imagination playing tricks on him or did he see Sherlock's pupils dilate a bit?

Sherlock opened his mouth and lifted his hand, but before he could do anything more, the door burst in and they were all thrown backwards, dust swirling through the air. Sherlock was blown away from John, who stood closest to the door. John felt strong, hard as stone arms around him and he knew he was lifted up from the floor. He knew what had happened; they'd been noticed, and now they were going to be killed. And John was the first.

John sighed and looked straight at Sherlock. He tried to tell him what he really felt for him with his eyes, saluting in silence as he heard the faint growl behind him as warm breath spread over his neck. From that moment on, everything seemed to go faster; he felt the sting of teeth piercing the skin of his neck, and he could feel the injecting of the Ice, entering the bloodstream. He felt his blood burning with cold; it confused him. His entire body hurt because of the clotting of the blood, he felt his body temperature lower due to lack of circulation, but most of all he felt the pain, as if his veins were filled with barbed wire.

His eyelids drooped as he lost the energy to keep them open. He felt his body sag down and his heart weaken.

At least Sherlock and the Doctor might figure a way out. John had given them that time. Like he had predicted, he'd be the one to at least try and save Sherlock's life by sacrificing his own. It seemed fair enough.

'No. NO! John, _no_!'

Sherlock's cry was almost too much to bear. Slowly, John opened his eyes again; he lay on the floor, there was no sign of the Koel around him anymore – he'd probably been too messed up to notice it being tackled off him by (presumably) Sherlock – and the angular face of his flatmate hovered above him, terror clear on his face.

'Don't die, John, please don't die. I'm not done with you, you hear me? We're not done yet. _Don't die_,' he pleaded, squeezing John's hand.

'I'm sorry, Sherlock,' John croaked. 'I love you.'

And the last thing he saw of Sherlock was the look of wonder and dread on his face, true, raw emotions as he never thought he'd see Sherlock experience. The last thing he saw of Sherlock when his vision blackened and his brain froze was a single tear running down his cheek.

* * *

**Wow, angsty. Sorry, you're going to have to wait awhile to get to that resolve. As you may have noticed, our hiatus is longer than expected and it will be for a while. School and personal life has caught up with us and we simply don't have time. We'll try to get things sorted during summer. We'll be happy if you decide to stick around, if not, we understand. Also, updates are also noted on our page. Thanks for reading and don't hesitate to leave a review!**


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